Halfway to Anywhere
by Rachel Greenwood
Summary: What if Rose woke up on April 14th and knew everything that was going to happen? Could she change the future and save the man she loves? And what happens if she does? Can their love survive the ultimate test: the world's scrutiny? Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: The original version of this story was posted a few years ago. I've taken down all of my old stories and am working on editing/rewriting them. The goal is to eventually have everything posted under the same account, so my old and new stories are together.**

 _The last of the desperate screams had faded away, but Rose hadn't noticed. She stared up at the sky and imagined she was a star, millions of miles away, burning brightly. Burning. Hot. What did heat feel like? She wasn't sure she could even remember, though there must have been a time when she felt something besides this numbness that gripped her body. She closed her eyes and suddenly she is on the deck of the ship again, her head tilted up, warm sunlight spilling across her face. "Are you going to sit like that all day?" Jack whispers, his breath tickling her ear. She smiles and lowers her head. His honey blonde hair shines in the sun. A pair of bright blue eyes peer out at her from beneath a few stray locks. His mouth is curled into a grin. She grabs his hand. He's warm. He's so wonderfully warm. His skin is lightly tanned-there's no trace of blue. It's all okay- "Is anybody alive out there?"_

 _Rose snapped out of her dream. The cry came again, louder this time. She lifted her head and turned to look in the direction the voice was coming from. She couldn't believe her eyes. It was a boat. Jack had been right; the boats really were coming back for them. She rolled over to face him. "Jack?" He didn't respond. She shook him. "There's a boat Jack." Still nothing. "Jack?" she cried, summoning all the strength she had left. It was no use. He was gone. As the truth sank in, a pain unlike anything she had ever known wrapped itself around her..._

"Miss!" Trudy shook Rose. "Miss, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Rose's eyes popped open. She jumped up and tried to bolt out of the bed, but Trudy held her back. "Miss, you have to calm down," she said soothingly. "It wasn't real."

"Jack! I have to find him!" Rose cried hysterically. "I have to!"

"Calm down and breathe for a moment, and then you can," Trudy said. Rose took a deep breath. Her mind began to settle. It had all been just a nightmare. None of it was real. Jack wasn't dead. The ship hadn't sunk. Jack wasn't dead.

"I just had the most vivid dream," Rose said. "It was so real. I've never experienced anything like it."

"You sounded like someone was killing you," Trudy said.

"What day is it?" Rose asked, ignoring her comment.

"It's the 14th." Trudy sounded confused. "Why?"

"The 14th…so there's time," Rose said to herself. "There's still time, if I hurry." She climbed out of bed and rushed past the startled Trudy. She flung open the doors of her wardrobe and slid her hand along the dresses hanging inside. The small part of her that clung to the belief that it really had been just a dream after all gave up hope as her hand landed first on the dress she had worn that afternoon and then stopped on the one she had worn that night. It was no use telling herself it was a coincidence, that she had dreamt about dresses she actually owned because she had seen them before. She knew it wasn't true.

"Trudy," she said, pulling the second dress out of the wardrobe. "If anyone asks, tell them you haven't seen me at all today." She turned around. Trudy stared at her with an expression that was a mix of shock and confusion. "Please?" she added. "I need you to do this for me."

Fifteen minutes later, she hurried down the main stairs and into Third Class, determined to find Jack, but as she looked around at the crowd she realized she didn't have the first clue where he might be. She had found him by pure chance the first time. She didn't know what number his room was or even who to ask. Fortunately, chance-or possibly something else-was on her side again. As her eyes scanned the room Jack started down the same stairs she had just come down herself.

"Rose?" he said, his voice rising in disbelief. She spun around. "Jack!" she cried. She ran toward him. They met in the middle. "What are you doing here?" he asked, overjoyed.

"I came to find you." Rose smiled up at him, her mission temporarily forgotten.

"Why? Are you okay?" He touched her shoulder. He refused to let himself believe she had come purely based on a desire to see him.

"I'm fine. Jack, can we talk? Alone?" she added.

He nodded. "Yeah...come on." He took her hand. He led her back down the stairs and through a door and then through what looked to Rose like a never ending maze of corridors. Finally he stopped and unlocked a door. "I don't think anyone's in here," he said, sticking his head inside to check. "Okay, it's clear." Rose followed him inside. She shut and locked the door behind them.

"Rose-" He didn't get the chance to say anything else before Rose threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He was paralyzed. Rose's body was almost pressing against his; Rose's mouth was on his. It couldn't be happening, could it? He decided he didn't care. He let his hands find the small of her back. He pressed her against him and deepened the kiss.

Neither of them knew how long they'd been standing there when Rose pulled away. "I have to tell you something," she said. "And I want you to try to believe me."

"Okay." He was sure he could believe anything she said.

"The ship's going to sink tonight."

"How do you know?"

"I dreamt about it. I know how it sounds, but it's true. I can't explain why or how, but I just know it's all going to happen, exactly the way I dreamt-unless we change it."

"Did you dream _this_?"

"No. In the dream this didn't happen until sunset, and we were outside... we've already started changing things. I woke up, and all I could think about was getting to you."

Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You wanted to get to me?"

"Yes. In the dream-in what would have been reality-I wasted so much time trying to convince myself I didn't feel something, and when I woke up I knew I couldn't make that mistake again." She laid her palm against his cheek. "I love you."

Jack's mind was reeling. So much was happening so quickly. "Did you say-did you say you love me?"

"I love you, Jack," she said, kissing him again.

He pulled away before the kiss intensified. "You-you really mean that?"

"I mean it."

And just like that he realized he believed everything she'd said about her dream. He couldn't have explained why. He just knew it was all true. But more importantly he realized he didn't have to keep trying to deny his feelings anymore, no matter how little right he had to them in the eyes of the world. "I love you too."

…..

They hurried down a First Class corridor. Jack felt uneasy about being there, not just for his own sake but also for Rose's. He knew it wouldn't go well for either of them if they were spotted by the wrong person. Rose held his hand like a vise, the only indication she gave that her mind was on anything but their mission. She stopped suddenly and peeked around a corner. A sign above them read "Chapel" with an arrow pointing ahead. "He should be in there," she said. "We'll stay out of sight until they start coming out." They flattened themselves against the wall, trying to become as invisible as possible, and settled in to wait. Jack grew more and more nervous every time a person passed, though few bothered giving them a second glance. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he heard the low murmur of a crowd. "Sounds like they're coming out," he said. Rose nodded. She pressed her cheek against the wall and peeked around the corner again. She saw her mother and Cal go by. Her mother's smile was tight. Cal's face wore its customary expression, but there was a new tension in his jaw. Rose held her breath until they were out of sight.

And then, finally, there he was. "Jack, come on," she whispered. He followed silently as she hurried over to a good looking, older man. Jack had a feeling he'd seen him somewhere before. "Mr. Andrews!" she said, her voice low but insistent.

Thomas Andrews turned from the man he was talking to. "Rose?" he said, somewhat startled by her sudden appearance. "Your mother said you were ill. Are you alright?"

Ah. She'd been wondering what they would say when they discovered she was missing. "I'm fine, thank you," she said quickly. "Mr. Andrews, we need to speak with you. Right now."

Something in her tone told him not to argue. They didn't know each other very well at all, but in the short time since they'd met he had developed a strangely compelling affection for her. He didn't know what she could possibly need from him, but whatever it was, he was willing to give it. "Alright," he said. "Alone, I'm assuming?"

…

He stared at them in disbelief. They were sitting in the small study that was part of his suite. Jack and Rose were perched on two chairs they had pushed as close together as possible, their hands clasped tightly. "Rose, your story is..." Thomas didn't know what to say. He'd never heard anything like it. "You claim you dreamt the ship struck an iceberg and sank, but that doesn't mean it's actually going to happen."

"I know how it sounds," Rose said. "But you have to believe me." Her eyes were wide, pleading. "It will happen if someone doesn't do something now to stop it."

"Even if you are wrong-and forgive me, dear Rose, but I just don't understand how you could possibly know any of this-I suppose it couldn't hurt to look into getting the ship back to normal speed," he said slowly. "Though as you well know, this ship is unsinkable."

She looked deep into his eyes. "I don't think you really believe that," she said quietly.

Something in her gaze frightened him. She was right. The ship was designed to be unsinkable, but under the right circumstances it could end up on the bottom of the ocean just as easily as any other. It wasn't unsinkable. It was just very cleverly designed. "Fine. I'll look into getting the ship slowed down."

Rose sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"I said I'd look into it. I'll see what I can do, but I'm not promising anything."

Rose nodded. She and Jack stood up to go. "I understand," she said quietly. They headed toward the door.

"Rose." They turned. "I'll try," he said.

"I can't really ask for more, can I?"

Once they were safely out of the First Class section and walking along a Third Class part of the deck, Jack spoke. "So in your dream we saw the iceberg?"

"Yes. We were out on the deck when it hit."

"Why were we out there? I mean, what all did we do in your dream?"

"Well..." Rose blushed a deep scarlet as she remembered just how much they'd done. The implications of her blush weren't lost on Jack. "Oh." was all he could say. They came to an empty bench and sat down, a slightly awkward silence settling over them. Suddenly Jack was more aware of her body than he had ever been. He wasn't blind. He knew how beautiful she was. He'd just done his best to avoid thinking about it. No sense lusting after someone he couldn't have.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Huh?" He had momentarily forgotten where he was. "Oh, um-" _I'm just trying to imagine what_ _your skin tastes like, that's all_. "Just going over everything that's happened this morning. What are you thinking about?" he added.

Jack wasn't alone in his distraction. _Just picturing you naked. Wondering if the real thing compares to what I saw in my dream._ She shoved the thought from her mind. "Actually," she said, a new realization dawning on her, "I was trying to figure out what we should do until tomorrow." He hadn't thought about that. They had a whole twenty-four hours or so to fill until the ship docked in New York. They were both choosing to believe the sinking would be avoided. _Well, I know one thing we could do-SHUT UP._

"I'm sure they're both furious," Rose said, interrupting his internal struggle with himself. "But I'm not going back," she added, a determined edge in her voice.

"You don't have to," Jack said, wrapping an arm across her shouders. "You're staying with me." They looked at each other, both suddenly aware that they had known that was what she was going to do all along. "Though you might need some more clothes," he added.

She glanced down at her thin dress. "You're right. I should have grabbed some before I left. I never even thought about it. I was so focused on getting to you."

Jack squeezed her shoulder. "You don't know how happy hearing that makes me."

"What if I said...I love you, how happy would it make you to hear that?" Rose asked, a mischevious glint in her eyes.

He kissed her. "There aren't words."

"I love you."

"I love you."

They gazed at each other blissfully, each unaware of anything but the other. "I guess I'll have to go back after all," Rose said, breaking the spell.

"Well, you're not going alone."

"Jack, you don't know what might happen," she protested. "If we run into Cal, and it's anything like what happened in my dream-"

"And that's all the more reason for me to go," he insisted. "I don't know what he did in your dream, but I know what he's going to do in real life. Nothing. Because I'm not giving him the chance to do anything else. If you go back, I'm going with you."

Rose sighed. "Fine. We should wait until dinner then. My mother would die before she missed a meal, and I'm sure Cal feels the same way. That just leaves that supposed valet of his to worry about."

"Supposed?"

"Well, considering he sends him out on spying missions-and I don't even want to know what else-the title seems like a bit of a misnomer."

"Wait, he sends him on spying missions?" Jack couldn't help but laugh.

Rose giggled."I know, it's absurd! He sent him to watch us last night," she added once the laughter dispersed.

"How did this guy even know where you were?"

Rose shrugged. "I don't know how he does it, but no matter where I go or what I do..."

Jack pulled her closer. "Let him find us. I'll deal with him when he does." A heavy breeze blew across them. Rose shivered. "Are you cold?" he asked.

"I don't think this was the best dress to wear outside without a coat," she said. "At least not today."

He stood up and offered her his hand. "Let's go inside and get you warm then." He hoped his statement didn't sound to her the way it sounded to him. If it did, she didn't seem to mind. She took his hand.

A few minutes later they found themselves sitting on Jack's bunk. In his empty room. In awkward silence.

"So..." Rose tried desperately to think of something to say. Any words would do. _Take off my dress._ Except those. _What is wrong with you?_

"Yeah..." Jack flexed his hands and avoided looking directly at her _. Say something! Just open your mouth and speak! When do you have trouble talking to people?_ "Um..uh..." He flexed his hands again. _Could I kiss that little space, the one right between your throat and the neckline of your dress?_ But that's not what he said. "Are you still cold?"

"Oh no. I'm-I'm quite warm." _Terribly warm. Now come over here and get this dress off me!_ But she didn't say that.

Jack looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She caught his gaze before he could turn away. "Jack-" "Rose-" Before either of them could get anything else out, they lunged for each other.

They kissed frantically. Jack's hands were on Rose's waist. Rose held him by the shoulders. He slowly pulled her closer, giving her time to stop him. He must have been moving too slowly because she groaned and pushed him onto his back, bringing herself down on top of him _. I can't believe this is happening_ , he thought as her weight settled on him. Rose was thinking the same thing.

 _You can't really be doing this,_ she told herself _. You've declared your love for this man and now you've literally thrown yourself at him_. _Do have any idea what you look like right now?_ She did. And she didn't care. She loved Jack-and she wanted him. Before her dream she would never have dared do anything like what she was doing right then, but her dream had changed things. She knew it hadn't been real, though she still believed it very well could have become real. And that was enough. The things she'd done in her dream felt real enough, even now. She had looked her feelings in the face and acted on them then. And she was going to now.

"Rose," he murmured, pulling his mouth away from hers. She moved her head slightly and reclaimed it.

Jack was torn. Did he stop her now before she made what might turn out to be a mistake-to her- or did he let things continue as they were? He tried to slide out from under her, but her hand on his leg stopped him _. She isn't..._ He shuddered. She was.

He was saved from any further internal struggle by a knock at the door. "Jack!" Rose pulled away from him. They both stared at the door. "Jack! Are you in there?"

"Tommy?"

"Yeah-what're you doing down here in the middle of the day?"

"I'm just...napping," he answered lamely. Rose giggled. He shushed her quietly. "Want me to tell him?" She shook her head, still smiling. There was a part of her that wanted him to, though fortunately it wasn't the part in control. She didn't understand where this new part of herself had come from, but she liked it. It was frightening. It was unfamiliar. It was everything she knew she was never, ever supposed to be. And she liked it.

"Um...okay...you comin to lunch?"

Jack looked at Rose. "I haven't eaten yet today..."

"Neither have I."

"Yeah, I'm comin. I'll meet you there," he called.

"Okay," Tommy called back. He stared at the door for a second before walking away, confused. _Jack sounded...strange,_ he thought as he headed to the Third Class dining hall. _He's probably still hung up on that girl_.

Suddenly Rose was all too aware of her position. "Oh..I'm sorry," she said, quickly climbing to her feet. She smoothed her dress, feeling Jack's eyes on her as she did so. She knew he was about to say something about what they'd just been doing-just been about to do-and she didn't want to talk about it. Not yet, at least. "Are you coming?" she said brightly, moving toward the door.

Jack was puzzled by her sudden change in behavior, but he chose not to question it. It was obvious what she was avoiding. He moved to stand up. And abandoned the effort before he had even lifted his body more than a few inches off the bed.

"Jack?" Rose took a step toward him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said. "Just had a little trouble standing up is all." He didn't move.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine..." He was staring at the ceiling. Rose looked up and tried to see what was holding his attention. "Okay," he said a few moments later. He jumped to his feet. "So, we were going to lunch?"

"Are you sure you're really okay?" Rose asked as they made their way to the dining hall.

"I'm sure." He flashed her his customary grin and squeezed her hand. "Trust me, I'm fine."

Rose's eyes widened as the dining hall came into sight. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was a big, open room with row after row of rectangular tables in the middle. Against the walls were lines of people waiting their turn to get food. Jack noticed her stunned expression. _Maybe_ _this wasn't such a good idea_. He knew Rose wasn't a snob, but that didn't mean she was ready to be plunged into something so different from what she was used to.

"Jack, come on," she said eagerly, tugging at his hand.

 _Or not_ , he thought, following her into the dining hall.

Watching her interact with his friends during lunch, Jack couldn't believe he'd ever doubted her. She fit in as though she'd lived among them her entire life. Tommy had raised an eyebrow and shot Jack a questioning look when the two of them had sat down across from him and Fabrizo. Jack had replied with a grin. He knew what Tommy was thinking, and he didn't care. Fabrizo didn't seem to notice the exchange. He was too busy staring at Rose. He'd seen the way Jack had looked at her that afternoon out on the deck, but he'd never imagined this would happen. _But if anyone could do it_ , he thought _. If anyone of us could get someone like her._ He'd spent a year traveling across Europe with Jack, and in that time there wasn't a lot he'd seen that Jack couldn't do if he put his mind to it.

"What are you two planning to do?" he asked. He and Jack had never talked about what would happen when they reached America. There had never been a reason to. Until now.

Jack gulped down some water. "Do?"

"Do," he repeated. "In America."

Jack looked at Rose. What were they planning to do? "We're getting married," Rose said. Jack couldn't believe his ears. "We are?" he asked, sounding more overjoyed than anything else.

 _You weren't supposed to say that out loud!_ "If you still want to," she said, trying to make it sound to the others as though Jack had already asked her.

"Of course I want to!" he cried, throwing his arms around her. He smiled into her hair. "I've never wanted anything so much in my entire life."

Rose could feel people staring at them, but she didn't care. She tilted her head up and kissed him. "Me either."


	2. Chapter 2

After Rose's announcement the conversation had headed in a different direction entirely. Jack heard none of it. He could feel the weight of Rose's hand in his and nothing else. Rose, who was much better at bottling up her feelings, continued on as though nothing had happened. Fabrizo shot him a few questioning looks, but he too had continued on as though nothing had happened. Tommy just stared at him, unable to believe what he'd just heard. He didn't know Jack as well, so he didn't have the kind of unwavering faith in him Fabrizo did.

Jack and Rose wandered the halls in Third Class after lunch. Going outside didn't seem like a good idea. They would be too easy to spot if someone were trying to find them, as Rose was certain they were. Jack almost suggested they go back to his room but decided against it. As much as he wanted to be alone with Rose, he didn't trust himself enough. It didn't matter that she had been the aggressive one. It was up to him to make sure she didn't do something she might regret later. _She asked you to marry her,_ his mind argued. _How much more proof do you need_ _that she's not going anywhere_? It wasn't about needing more proof. It was about protecting her. He couldn't just let her throw herself into something she wasn't ready for.

"I'm sorry about what happened back there," Rose said, smiling sheepishly. "I didn't mean to say that out loud."

"How long had you been thinking it?" he asked, trying sound casual.

"Since last night," she admitted. "Since the shooting stars."

"What did you wish for?"

"Something I can't have."

He stopped walking and pulled her close to him, oblivious to fact that they were surrounded by people. "You can have your wish," he said, pressing his forehead to hers.

She smiled up at him. "What did you wish for?"

"Something I thought I couldn't have."

Meanwhile, back in First Class, Rose's suspicions of fury were proving true. It hadn't taken Ruth long to discover her daughter was missing. Her room was empty, but the bed was made. She had either left early-very early-and the maid had already taken care of tidying up or _...Don't even think it!_ Rose couldn't possibly be that foolish. She knew what was at stake.

"Where is she?" Ruth demanded, turning her fury on Trudy.

"I don't know ma'am. I haven't seen her."

Ruth narrowed her eyes. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Rose had slept in her bed, but at the last second she realized the full implication of that question. With no way to prove Trudy was lying-and she wasn't even certain of that-and breakfast about to begin, she gave up. "Fine," she snapped. "Tell me the instant you see her again."

Illness was the excuse she used to explain Rose's absence at breakfast. There were murmurs of sympathy, and then it was forgotten. Everyone was too wrapped up in their own lives to care if Rose showed up or not. Cal shot Ruth a look. She ignored it. It wasn't the time nor the place for his questions. Rose was ill, and as far as she was concerned that was all there was to it. If she was lucky Rose would show up soon, and the whole thing would just blow over.

Once or twice during breakfast she caught Molly watching her. Ruth avoided her eyes. _Vulgar woman. It's none of her business. It's her fault. If she hadn't dressed him up..._

At the other end of the table, Cal was also lost in thought. He knew Ruth was lying. Rose was with _him_ last night. He'd been appalled by Lovejoy's report. _Drinking with him. Dancing with him. And now this. Well, I won't have it._ He briefly considered going out to look for her himself, but his absence from the chapel would be noticed. So he'd sent Lovejoy out immediately after breakfast, but by lunch he was back, shaking his head.

"No-one's seen her."

"What do you mean 'no-one's seen her'?" Cal's mouth thinned. "There are over a thousand people on this ship; one of them has to have seen her."

"I don't know what to tell you. I've been all over this ship, and no-one I've spoken to has seen her. Him either." Lovejoy decided not to mention the possibility that some of the steerage passengers might lie for Jack.

Cal closed his eyes and breathed deeply. _This is not happening_. "Just go find her," he said calmly.

….

Jack didn't know how they did it, but somehow they managed to get through the rest of the afternoon. He would have been even more shocked if he'd known they'd also managed to stay one step ahead of Lovejoy the entire time. Not wanting to listen to another one of Cal's tirades, he had gone back out, determined to come back with one, if not both of them, or not come back at all. He'd headed straight for Third Class. It was nearly dinnertime, and he was still there. He'd walked down every corridor, peered through every crack and opening in every door, and described Jack and Rose to just about everyone he saw. No-one had seen them.

At least, no-one was admitting to having seen them. Lovejoy was sure someone had to have seen them. It was a ship. There were only so many places they could go, and he doubted very much they would have dared go up to First Class. Too many people would have noticed the missing Rose, and Jack-if not clad in his borrowed finery-would have drawn too much attention. No, they were down in steerage. Somewhere.

Lovejoy was right. They were down in steerage. They kept moving, wandering down one corridor after another, up one set of stairs and then down another, spurred on by the knowledge that someone was probably looking for them, and staying in one place would make them that much easier to find. Jack didn't ask anyone to say they hadn't seen them. He trusted his friends not to say anything; though he hoped no-one would bother them, they weren't a part of the situation, and he didn't believe it was right to ask strangers to get involved. They would just avoid Cal-and Lovejoy and whoever else was sent their way as best they could. It was already almost dinnertime, and the ship was docking in New York in the morning. As far as Jack was concerned that couldn't come soon enough. He wasn't afraid of Cal, especially not of fighting him one on one, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what Cal could do to him, to say nothing of what he might do to Rose, and he didn't try to delude himself into thinking morality would triumph over money.

His glance happened to fall on a wall clock. The hands pointed to six p.m. "Dinnertime," he said, nudging Rose. She looked up at the clock. "It is." Where had the time gone? It seemed like only minutes ago they were kissing in the hallway after her impromptu marriage proposal, and now it was time for their foray back into the snake pit. She felt Jack's eyes on her. He was studying her face. "You still want to do this?" he asked.

"I wouldn't say I want to, but as you pointed out earlier, I really should. There's no way I can talk you into staying behind is there?"

Jack shook his head. "Afraid not. We have an agreement you and me."

"We do?"

He feigned shock. "You've forgotten already about what happens when you jump?"

"I didn't forget," she said.

They hurried up to First Class, checking around corners and looking over their shoulders the entire way. Fortunately by the time they arrived just about everyone was already in the dining room or mingling around the Grand Staircase. Rose led Jack to her room, her heart racing faster with each step. Her palms were sweating as she fit the key into the lock and pushed open the door.

The room sitting room was empty. She breathed a sigh of relief. _So far so good_. She stepped into the room, motioning for Jack to follow. He gently closed the door behind them. Rose was already halfway across the room before Jack noticed she had moved from his side. He was too busy taking in the splendor around him. The distance between their worlds hit him in a new it never had. _Are you really going to let her do this?_

 _What else can I do? I love her._

 _If you loved her, wouldn't you want what's best for her?_

Jack pushed his doubts away. The freedom to be herself was what was best for her. The freedom to make her own decisions and live her life on her own terms was what was best for her. And he was determined to give that to her.

"Jack?" Her voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked over and the puzzled look on her face. "Sorry," he said, moving toward her. "I was just..." He spread his arms out. "Taking it all in."

Rose looked around, suddenly noticing the opulence of her suite for the first time. "It is a lot to take in, isn't it?" _Please don't think I can't give it up_. She watched his gaze examine everything, finally stopping when his eyes fell on the paintings leaning against the fireplace. "Monet!" he exclaimed. He dropped to his knees in front of them.

Rose smiled to herself. It was just like in her dream. "Aren't they fascinating?" she said. He didn't take his eyes off the painting as he traced his fingers over one of the water lilies-careful not to touch the canvas- "Look at his use of color here, isn't he great?" he said.

"It's extraordinary."

Rose wished they could continue on to the next scene, but there wasn't time. In the dream version of this night, she had only been missing since the late afternoon. There hadn't been enough time yet for Cal to send his lackey after them. They'd had almost two hours to themselves before he had shown up. Two glorious hours. They were alone now, but she didn't think they could trust they would remain that way. It was true, First Class dinners lasted an abominably long time, and she was certain that's where her mother was. _What would people think if she wasn't,_ Rose thought sarcastically. And she was almost as certain that's where Cal was too. He was just as concerned with his reputation as Ruth. But he had a lackey. They would have laughed themselves to tears had they known Lovejoy was still down in steerage, running up and down the same corridors over and over, determined not to leave until he found at least a sign of them.

Rose's breath tickled his ear. "We could take them." He could feel the warmth from her body next to him. _No, no, no._ He forced himself to focus on her words. "Do you want to?" he asked, turning his head to look at her. Her face was just inches from his. Close enough to kiss.. _SHUT UP._

"I actually do. If you don't mind..."

His eyes lit up. "Mind? I'd love to keep them. I don't know _where_ we'll keep them, but I don't know where we'll keep ourselves at first either."

Rose laughed. They didn't even have a place to stay in New York, nor any money to pay for one, and here she was worrying about keeping some paintings. "It's silly of me, isn't it? Worrying about something this trivial?"

"I don't think it's silly. Why wouldn't you want to keep them?"

"You are the only person who has ever understood the way I feel about art."

"It's a gift, I guess."

They would have gazed into each other's eyes all night if Jack hadn't remembered where they were. "We shouldn't hang around too long," he said. He pulled himself to his feet and offered Rose his hand. She allowed him to help her up from her knees. "You're right."

He watched as she removed a suitcase from a shelf in her wardrobe and threw it on her bed. _Don't think about the bed. Don't even look at it. It doesn't matter that it's big enough for both of you or that she doesn't have three roommates. She has a most likely pissed off mother and fiance who have no doubt sent someone to find her. So get your mind onto the task at hand._

Rose was busy throwing dresses at the suitcase. She wasn't bothering to fold them or even to make sure they were going in. She was just running her hands along the hangers until the found the ones that didn't scream "princess" quite as loudly as some of the others and tossing them behind her. Most of them landed on the bed. Hoping to distract himself while being helpful, Jack began folding the dresses and laying them in the suitcase. He didn't notice when Rose bent down and opened a drawer in the wardrobe.

He reached for a pile of white cotton she had just thrown at him. His hands began to shake as he realized it wasn't a dress he was holding, but an undergarment. Rose's undergarment. He told himself it didn't matter and began to fold it anyway. _Yeah, it doesn't matter. You're only holding her underwear. But that's the kind of thing you do everyday, isn't it?_

 _Shut up!_

 _Why does what I say bother you so much? Is it because it's true?_

 _It's because I can't have her...not the way I want her. Not now. Not yet._

Rose looked over her shoulder as she tossed another undergarment at the suitcase and discovered Jack holding the first one, staring at it intently. Her cheeks burned. _First you jump all over him, and now you're throwing your underwear at him?_

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, stepping toward him. She held out her hand. "I was so caught up in what I was doing I didn't realize…" Their eyes met. She blushed even more when she saw the desire burning in his blue eyes. She tried to speak, but nothing would come out. Goosebumps popped out along her arms. She was completely clothed, but she had never felt more naked in her life.

"Jack," she whispered, suddenly regaining her voice.

"Rose."

As if pulled by magnets, they moved toward each other. Jack dropped her underwear as his hands slid down her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. Their lips met in a tentative kiss. It didn't stay tentative for long.

Before he knew what he was doing Jack found himself searching the back of her dress for buttons-or hooks or whatever else could be used to close up a dress. _Don't!_ He told himself. _This is not—you can't—just shut up._

Rose broke the kiss. "Mr. Dawson, are you trying to undress me?" she asked, trying to sound shocked. _Please say you are._

For a moment Jack was afraid she really was shocked, but he could see the smile in her eyes. "Why yes, that's exactly what I was doing," he said, trying to sound upper class. "You don't mind do you?"

"Not at all," she whispered solemnly.

Things began to move quickly after that. The next thing he knew he was lying on the bed, flat on his back, and Rose was on top of him. His arms were wrapped around her. Her lips were on his throat and she was unbuttoning his shirt as fast as she could.

He tried to say her name, but it came out as a groan. No, he couldn't lose control of himself. He had to make sure she understood. He tried again, managing to say actual words this time. "Rose, do you realize..." Her mouth was moving down his chest now. Down...down..She stopped when she reached his pants. "Please Rose," he gasped.

"What is it?" she asked, slightly out of breath.

"You have to tell me you understand what we're doing. That you understand what could happen." He looked deep into her eyes. "That you want this."

"I understand everything," she said calmly. Any fears about being caught were long gone. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered except what they were doing. What they were about to do. "And I want this."

It seemed to Jack that it took an unbearably long time for them to undress each other, but finally he felt her skin against his. At some point they'd changed positions. Rose smiled up at him, looking slightly amused by the amazed expression in his eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, pulling him into a kiss.

They were silent as their hands and mouths explored, not speaking again until...

"Rose? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

A moment later he whispered frantically, "I'm sorry."

Her nails dug into his back. "Don't be." She lifted her head up and kissed him. "Keep going."

It seemed like it was over the instant they settled into a rhythm. Rose hugged him to her. Her hands pressed against his back. His head was nestled between her shoulder and neck. His lips just touched the bottom of her ear. Her own mouth was pressed against his cheek. She smiled against his skin as she felt him tremble in her arms. She didn't realize she was trembling too.

Jack closed his eyes and tried to bring his breathing back to normal. He could feel Rose's body trembling beneath him. _That's good, right? Hey, man of the world, you should know that already._

"Rose?" His voice came out sounding more like a sigh.

"Jack?"

He lifted his head and looked into her face. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're trembling."

Rose stifled a giggle. "So are you."

His face broke into a grin. "I didn't even notice." He leaned down and kissed her again. Had they been less absorbed in each other they would have remembered their situation, but as it was neither of them could think of anything but the other.

Meanwhile, in the First Class dining room, Ruth was furious, although she hid it quite well. A part of her had actually been surprised when Rose didn't show up to dinner. She'd been holding out hope that enough time would have gone by for Rose to come to her senses. It could happen. _Yes, and that boy she's so infatuated with will suddenly reveal he's actually a millionaire in disguise._ Dinner was coming to an end, and so far it didn't look like either thing was going to happen. She saw Cal head off with the other men. He seemed completely unconcerned by the crisis on their hands. _Why would he be? He won't lose anything if she does something foolish_.

And that's how Ruth came to hear herself say, "Excuse me, I really must go check on Rose. She's been ill today."

Jack and Rose had yet to move from their embrace. The vague notion that they had stayed far longer than they should have had just entered Jack's mind, but he wanted to ignore it. It seemed like the whole damned world was conspiring against them. They'd managed to block it out, but he knew, as much as he hated to admit it, the wall they had built between themselves and everyone else wouldn't last much longer. Rose knew it too. She just didn't want to be the one to say it first. They were too absorbed in their thoughts and in each other-to notice the doorknob turning.

Ruth stared at them, her mouth hanging open. Had she been able to move she would have pinched herself. It couldn't be. She wouldn't have.

Jack had the peculiar feeling they were being watched, though that couldn't be could it? They'd locked the door, hadn't they? He lifted his head and looked around the room. His heart skipped a beat as his shocked eyes met Ruth's horrified ones.


	3. Chapter 3

"What is it?" Rose propped herself up on her elbows. Her eyes met her mother's. _Oh my God_. That was all it took for Ruth's paralysis to be broken. "Wh—what did you do?" she cried. Jack was not entirely surprised to see she was looking at him. He remained quiet. He knew it wasn't the sort of question she expected an answer to.

Rose had wrapped the sheet around herself and slipped over to the edge of the bed. She was reaching over the side and trying to grab her dress when her mother remembered Jack wasn't the only one there. Turning her narrowed eyes on her she shrieked, "And you! How could you let him?"

Maybe it was the knowledge that in another version of that night Jack died and no-one but her seemed or care, or maybe she was still high on their lovemaking—still floating too far above the world to care what happened—but whatever the reason, something in Rose snapped. "I didn't let him do anything!" she cried. Jack just stared at her, shock and fear in his eyes. _What is she_ _saying? She can't mean that_ —"I wanted him—I asked him to!" Rose continued. Jack let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"I'm going into the other room," Ruth said quietly. "And when I come back out one of you won't be here anymore." She glared at Jack. He stared back. "And the other will have remembered everything she's jeopardizing and have realized how much better it is that I'm the only one who was unfortunate enough to have to see this." She turned on her heel and left, closing the door behind her.

Rose let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry."

"What? Why're you—"

"I knew there was a chance someone might find us, but I threw myself at you anyway."

"I wasn't exactly resisting."

"You tried to." She gazed at him lovingly. "You did make me stop."

"That was for you. I didn't want you rushing into anything you might regret later." He touched her hand. "It didn't matter how much I wanted you if you didn't want me back."

"Are you sure you're a man?" In spite of everything, Jack laughed. "I think I just heard the question in my head," she added with a giggle.

"I was about to make what refined persons might consider a very vulgar remark in answer to your question," he said.

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but I kind of think now's not the time."

Rose looked around. Their clothes were strewn all over the floor. The suitcase she'd been packing had been knocked off the bed, all the dresses Jack had folded so carefully had been spilled out of it. The wardrobe was still open. Empty hangers littered the floor in front of it. "We have made quite a mess, haven't we?"

Jack eyed the damage. "You could say that." He looked at her. "So what do you wanna do? I mean, your mother just made it pretty clear what _I'm_ supposed to do—"

"Jack, what are you talking about?"

"You know, she said—"

"I don't care what she said. This doesn't change anything."

 _Five minutes later_

Ruth was pacing the length of her room, a drink in her hand. "This is what I've been reduced to. She's driven me to drunkenness. It's his fault. It has to be. He talked her into this somehow," she said. Yes, that's what happened. Her comfortable self pity and story constructing was shattered a moment later when she heard Rose's bedroom door slam into the wall. She made it into the sitting room just in time to see the two of them fly across it, hands clasped. Rose clutched the re-packed suitcase in her free hand. As they passed the fireplace, Jack leaned down and scooped up each of the paintings, one by one.

And just like that, they were gone.

She looked from Rose's open door to the open door leading into the hallway. In their haste to escape they hadn't bothered to close either of them. She turned up her drink and finished it off in one gulp. "I might need another."

…..

They didn't stop running until long after they were deep in the maze of identical corridors that was Third Class. As their pace slowed Rose stole a glance at Jack. His face was unreadable. _I wish I knew what he was thinking._ She smiled as her eyes fell on the stack of paintings tucked under his arm. She'd said she wanted them, and he'd made sure she got them.

"Jack, where are we going?" The words were out of her mouth before she knew it.

He looked at the numbers on the doors they were passing. Without thinking about it he had started heading in the direction of his room. "Well, I didn't think you wanted to wander the halls all night, so we're going back to my room for awhile…if that's okay," he added.

"I'd like that."

There was something in her tone, something about the way she said the words that made him feel warm inside. He smiled and squeezed her hand. _This cannot be happening. Not to me._

They reached his room a few minutes later. "I don't know if anyone's in here," he said as unlocked the door. "But there's a chance someone might be asleep." Rose nodded. He carefully pushed the door open and took a step inside. There was enough light shining in from the hall for him to see the room was empty. He slid his hand along the wall next to the door and flicked on the lights.

"Looks like we're all alone," he said with mock seriousness. He bowed slightly. "After you my love."

"Thank you," Rose said in an exaggeration of her usual refined tone. She resisted the urge to comment on the way he'd referred to her. The words echoed in her head. _My love._

Once the door was closed and they were facing each other, the enormity of what they had just done finally began to sink in. Jack studied Rose's face and was surprised to see she was trying to hold back a smile. "Why the seriousness?" he asked, keeping his tone light. _She must know she can smile around me._

"It's nothing." She took a deep breath and tried to relax her face. It didn't work. The more she tried to stifle the laughter that was bubbling up in her throat, the stronger it became until finally she was giggling quietly, her hand covering her mouth.

Jack watched her, unsure of what to do. Was it him? He glanced down at himself, half-expecting to see something amiss, but there was nothing. "Care to share the joke with me?" he teased, trying to hide his intense curiosity behind a playful tone.

"It's just-" Rose giggled and looked slightly ashamed of herself. She took another deep breath- "Did you see my mother's face?"

Jack stared at her for a moment and then burst out laughing. When he'd been naked in Rose's bed the sight of Ruth's horrified grimace had been terrifying, but now that they were both safely far away from her, and he was wearing pants again, there was a certain hilarity to it.

His laughter sent Rose over the edge. She doubled over, clutching her stomach and laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. "I just keep hearing her in my head. 'When I get back one of you won't be here anymore,'" she mocked Ruth's haughty tone. "Did she really think we were going to listen?"

"Yeah, she probably did," he said as his laughter faded. "You were supposed to remember what you were jeopardizing and start feeling all disgusted with yourself and with me," he added as she stepped closer to him. His heart began to beat faster. She was close enough that he could put his arms around her if he wanted to.

"Reminding me of what I was jeopardizing was the stupidest thing she could have done considering there wasn't anything left to jeopardize." Seeing confusion in his blue eyes she added, "I'd already given it up."

She sounded so sure of herself. "You could still go back," he reminded her. "If—if you wanted to. No-one else knows what happened. You could still-" Her face tightened. Her green eyes stared at him, wide and fearful. "Not that I want you to!" he said quickly. "Because I don't." He gave in and pulled her to him. "I don't ever want you to go...I love you."

She laid her head against his chest. "I love you too. I'm never leaving you."

How long they stood like that neither of them knew, but eventually Rose lifted her head and glanced around the room. "The others must never come back," she said.

"They're probably at the party."

"Party? There's another one?"

"Oh yeah. There's one every night."

She looked up at him, biting her lip. "This might sound..." She shook her head dismissively. "No, it does sound that way."

"What? Tell me."

"Well...first, what time is it?"

He threw a glance at the wall clock behind him. "9:30. Why?"

Two hours and ten minutes left until the ship hit the iceberg. But she didn't know for sure it would happen. It had been just a dream after all. And even if there was an iceberg out there was a chance Mr. Andrews really had been able to do something to alter the ship's course enough so that they could avoid it. _Yes, he did_ , she assured herself. _Nothing is going to happen_. But she felt her stomach knot with fear anyway. What if the ship really did sink? What if, even with her knowledge of how it would go, she couldn't save him? _What if this is the only night we have_ _together?_ Feeling sick, Rose looked into his eyes. _Make it count then_. "Jack, would you take me to another 'real party'?"

His face broke into a wide smile. "Why, I'd love to."

It was just as exhilarating the second time as it had been the first, the chorus of voices all speaking different languages, the smoke-filled air, the music that sent a kind of energy flowing through her body she didn't even know was possible, and Jack. He held her in his strong, capable arms and led her through dance after dance, their bodies moving together perfectly. It was almost as though they were one person.

As she let him lead her, Jack was struck by just how much she trusted him. He knew he had to be worthy of it. He gazed at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and wide, sparkling eyes, the smile that hadn't left her face since they'd walked in. _I will be...I am._

Neither of them noticed Lovejoy slip through a side door. He'd finally given up and accepted the fact that both of them had somehow vanished into thin air when the sounds of the party reached his ears. "Well, it can't hurt to check," he'd said to himself.

It only took a second for him to catch sight of Rose's fiery curls. She was laughing as Jack maneuvered her into an elaborate dip. "Looks like I'll have something to report after all," he said to himself.

….

Cal's chin rested on the tips of his index fingers. "She's with him," he said. "You're certain?" Lovejoy shot him a disdainful look. "Yes, I'm quite sure. I spent the entire day running around trying to track her down, and finally I did."

"They were probably together all day…" Cal said becoming lost in his thoughts. A wave of revulsion washed over him. "I wonder how they occupied themselves."

"Are you you really want to go down that road?"

"Just musing," he said sarcastically. "You know how interested I am in what my darling Rose does to pass the time. In fact, I think I really ought to see this new diversion of hers for myself."

It didn't take Lovejoy long to lead him to the party. Cal peered into the room, disgusted by what he saw. Couples danced and laughed together. The women seemed to have no shame. Rose really preferred this? How could anyone? He watched as a dark haired man and a blonde woman attempted to communicate. They obviously spoke different languages, but that wasn't stopping them from trying. _These people can't even speak English,_ he thought scornfully. He scanned the room, searching for any sign of Rose. It was impossible to miss that hair. "I don't see her," he said, turning to Lovejoy.

"Neither do—Wait!" Lovejoy pointed at the room's other entrance. "Did you see that?"

Cal craned his neck, trying to get a better view of the door across the room, which was difficult to do given that there was a tempestuous sea of people between it and him. "What?"

"It was him."

"Are you sure? Blonde men are fairly common. I don't feel like chasing after some random man."

"It was him. I'm sure of it."

"Come on then," Cal ordered.

It took longer for them to shove their way through the crowd than they had anticipated, and by the time they reached the door it was obvious that whoever Lovejoy had seen was long gone. Cal popped his knuckles in frustration. He took a deep breath. "Let's keep going."

Meanwhile Jack and Rose had made their way outside and were blissfully walking hand in hand along the deck. The cool night air felt wonderful after the sweltering heat of the party. Vigorous dancing and a room full of bodies did not make for a temperate experience. Rose was lost in her own happiness, all thoughts of an iceberg, death, and disaster banished.

"Look," Jack said, bringing them to a stop. He pointed up at the sky with his free hand. Rose looked up. "It's beautiful," she gasped as her eyes took in the glowing full moon above them.

"Not as beautiful as you," Jack said. He pulled her close and kissed her, a gentle, loving kiss. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and was about to deepen the kiss when suddenly she became conscious of something cold on her left hand. Cal's ring. She stepped back and broke the kiss.

Seeing her solemn expression Jack felt a pang of fear shoot through him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she assured him. "I just have to do something."

He watched as she raised her left hand and took off the large diamond ring. What he felt could only be described as giddiness. "See this?" she asked. He nodded. She moved over to the railing and drew her arm back. Realizing what she was about to do, Jack stepped up behind her and grabbed her hand. "You might not wanna do that."

Confusion shone in her green eyes as she peered at him over her shoulder. "Why would I want to keep his ring? I'm not going back to him."

His heart swelled. "I know you're not, and I wouldn't want to keep it either if I were you. But it's probably worth a lot and we're gonna need money, at least until I can start bringing some in myself. I've only got ten bucks in my pocket, and trust me that won't keep us for long."

"Don't worry about it."

"No, Rose, really, it's not as easy as I made it sound. It's—"

"I already took care of it. You were too busy getting dressed to notice, but before we made out great escape I cleaned out my jewelry box. Trust me. We have more than enough expensive things to sell once we reach New York."

Jack was at a loss for words. "You're amazing."

"No, I'm not. I'm just not as helpless as everyone thinks I am."

"I never thought you were helpless. You're no picnic, and you're a spoiled little brat even—sometimes. But not helpless."

Rose wished she could tell him that in another reality he had said something very similar—in fact some of the words were almost identical—to her, but she settled for asking the question she had wanted to ask when he'd said it in the other reality. "I'm a spoiled brat?"

"I said sometimes!" he cried, throwing his hands up in defense.

"Sometimes, huh?" She pretended to throw a punch at him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her close again. "Maybe not even that," he said as their lips met.

Rose moved her mouth away from his. "Jack, what time is it?" she asked, remembering the iceberg.

"I don't know." He looked around for a clock, but there wasn't one. He did, however, spot two men in the crow's nest. "Hey!" he shouted up to them. "What time is it?"

"Time for you two to continue this inside," one of them shouted back good naturedly. "It's midnight," the other answered.

Could it really be midnight? "It didn't happen," Rose whispered.

"What didn't happen?" Looking at the relief in her eyes Jack realized exactly what hadn't happened. "Told you it was gonna be fine," he said, pressing his forehead against hers.

"I guess you were right." Joy enveloped her. The ship wasn't going to sink. Jack wasn't going to die. None of the misery and horror of her dream would happen—to any of them. It wasn't just the two of them that had been spared but everyone on board.

A moment later she asked, "Can I throw the ring in the ocean now?"

"If that's what you wanna do," he laughed. _I'll be glad to see it go_ , he thought as she bent her arm back, preparing to throw it.

And just like that it was gone. They didn't even hear it land in the water. They leaned over the railing. "I'm sure it went straight to the bottom," Jack said.

"You're probably right." Rose yawned. When had she gotten tired? Jack yawned in response. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted," he said.

"I am too. It just hit me. Can we go back to your room?"

"Sure." He took her hand and they headed back the way they'd came, never realizing whom they were heading toward.

…..

Jack saw them first. He froze, unsure what to do next. Rose stared at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What—" He held a finger up to her lips and motioned toward them with his head. She tightened her grip on Jack's hand. They only had a few seconds to act. Lovejoy was studying his watch, and Cal was looking down a side corridor. Slowly, Jack turned them both around, and they began walking back the way they'd come.

He knew it was only a matter of moments before one of them looked up and saw their retreating backs, but he was hoping to find an empty room or a stairwell they could duck into before that happened. He didn't want to run away, but there were two of them and only one of him. And he had Rose to think about.

"There they are!" Lovejoy's voice ripped through the silence like a jagged knife. By the time Jack had fully processed Lovejoy's words Rose had already pulled them both into a run.

Jack didn't know if he was hearing the blood rushing through his ears or the pounding of Cal and Lovejoy's feet on the floor behind them. _They might catch us_. He pushed himself to run faster, tightening his grip on Rose's hand. _I won't let that happen._ Jack and Rose led them through corridor after corridor. Cal may have outranked Jack in terms of muscle mass, but he was no match for him when it came to speed. It wasn't long before he was out of breath, a stitch in his side. Lovejoy was ahead of him, but even he was showing signs of fatigue. If Jack hadn't been gripping her hand Rose would have given out long before, but every time she thought she couldn't possibly go another step, he squeezed her hand and somehow she found the energy to keep going.

And just when they thought they had made it, just when it seemed like they were about to finally shake Cal and Lovejoy, the unthinkable happened. The heel on Rose's left shoe snapped in half.

Time slowed down and sped up at the same time. It seemed to take forever and yet somehow there wasn't enough time for Jack to stop it. Helplessly, he watched a look of horror cross Rose's face as her body hurtled toward the floor. At the last second he tried to pull her back to her feet, but it was too late. She crashed into the floor with a sickening thump half a second before Jack toppled onto her.

Cal and Lovejoy stopped in their tracks, temporarily frozen by the scene unfolding in front of them. What they didn't realize was that by giving in to their shock they were giving Jack the chance to recover from his. He leaped to his feet, threw Rose over his shoulder and before either of them had a chance to react disappeared into a stairwell.

Eventually Cal found his voice. "Well, don't just stand there!" he yelled angrily, shoving Lovejoy forward. Lovejoy shot him a glare. But he did as he was told. Cal followed close behind. They stepped into the stairwell. Jack and Rose were nowhere in sight, and except for Rose's discarded shoes had left no sign that they had even been there.

"They could have gone either way," Lovejoy said, indicating the two sets of stairs, one leading up and one leading down. Cal swore under his breath. "We'll split up then. You go up, and I'll go down."

"Fine."

Jack and Rose were at that moment engaged in their first fight. He had taken the down set of stairs, and it had led them out into yet another corridor. There were two more corridors going to the left and right a few feet ahead of them. A small sign near the ceiling on each side indicated they led to third class cabins. The one on the right eventually led back to Jack's. He carefully set Rose on her feet. "Can you stand?" he asked quickly. She nodded. "Okay. Listen, this is what I need you to do. See that hallway?" Her eyes followed his pointing finger. "Yes." "I need you to go down it, follow it to the end and make a left. Do you remember which number my room is?"

Rose nodded. _Why is he telling me this? He knows. Why is he talking like he's not going with me?_

"Good." He shoved a key into her hand. "Go there. Go as fast as you can and stay there. Don't come out until I come get you."

She stared at him. "Aren't you coming with me?"

"I'll be there in a minute. Just go."

"No," she said quietly but firmly.

"Rose, please, you have to do this," he insisted. "We only have a few more seconds. Please don't fight me." _Please understand. I can't take the chance on you getting hurt._

"Why aren't you coming with me?" she asked, her voice rising in panic. "Why—what are you-"

"I am coming. It's just gonna take me a little longer is all." He held her by the shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers. "Go. Now." Rose opened her mouth to protest, but instead she found herself walking past him and down the right corridor. She felt like someone else was steering her body. She stopped at the corner and turned back to him. His blue eyes were clouded by a look she had never seen before. "Go," he said through clenched teeth. She didn't want to, but she turned and began to run.

Jack went around the corner of the corridor on the left. He didn't hear them yet. He glanced over and saw that she had already rounded the other corner. He took a deep breath. Rose was okay.

He knew she didn't understand what he was doing. He'd hated seeing the look of frightened confusion in her eyes, but there just wasn't time to explain. _I know she's thinking if I had just gone with her this whole thing would be over, but it wouldn't be. If I don't stop him now he'll just keep coming._ Jack tensed as he heard someone burst into the corridor. He peered around the corner and saw Cal standing just outside the stairwell, his back to him _. Now's my chance._


	4. Chapter 4

Cal never saw it coming. One moment he was trying to decide which way to go— _It's a damned maze down here_ —and the next he was on his stomach staring at the floor. His reflexes kicked in immediately. He propped himself up on his elbows and rolled onto his side in an effort to throw off the body that held him down. It didn't work. Jack simply let go of his jacket and took hold of his neck. Cal howled in pain and rage as Jack's fingers dug into the tender skin of his throat. He desperately rolled from side to side in hopes of throwing Jack off, but all the reward he got for his efforts was the feeling that his windpipe was being crushed. Panic began to set in.

And then he remembered he had hands. He grabbed Jack's hair. Jack responded by biting his hand. Cal howled again and let go. Jack didn't. He just bit down harder. This was a fight he intended to win by any means necessary. He knew what would happen if he lost.

Realizing he couldn't pull his hand out from between Jack's teeth, at least not without causing even more damage to it, Cal did the only thing he could think of. He knew he was just inches from the wall so he pulled his hand forward, gritting his teeth against the pain, bringing Jack's head with it. By the time Jack realized what was about to happen it was too late. His hands went limp as pain engulfed his head. Cal's hand dropped from his mouth, and he slammed his body into the wall again.

Cal threw him off and climbed to his feet. Jack slumped on the floor, too disoriented by the pain in his head to do anything else. _Get up!_ his mind screamed _Rose! You have to protect her!_ The mere thought of Rose was enough to break through the haze. He was just about to jump to his feet when a searing pain ripped through his back. A scream escaped his throat as Cal grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to his feet. "You really thought you'd win, didn't you?" he hissed. "A weak little rat like you?" He shook Jack roughly. "Well, say something!"

"I already won," Jack said quietly. "It doesn't matter what you do to me. It won't change which one of us she loves."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Cal's fist collided with his face. "You think she loves you?" he yelled. Jack's head smacked the wall behind him. "I know she does!" he cried, overcome by a sudden burst of energy. He twisted his head, wrenching himself free of Cal's grip. He raised his fist to hit him but was stopped by a blood curdling scream. A sudden flash of red whizzed by his eyes and shoved Cal to the ground.

"Rose!" he yelled, lunging forward to pull her off. Her fists were flying. She had yet to stop screaming. Cal was trying desperately to block her blows, but she was moving too fast. He heard a sickening _pop_ as her fist slammed into his nose. His mouth tasted like blood. _She's hitting me_. _She's actually hurting me. She's hitting me over him_. Energized by a fresh burst of rage he grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her as hard as he could. She bounced off the wall, leaving an imprint of her body behind in the white paint, before falling to the floor in a limp heap.

Cal pulled himself to his feet and stared at her still body. "That's not what I meant to do..." he said softly.

"Rose!" Jack's features were contorted in agony. He flew at Cal and then everything went black until...

"That's enough!" A pair of hands roughly pulled him into a standing position. Jack twisted his body and flailed his arms. "Let me go!" he yelled. He was shoved into the wall. His cheek pressed against the spot next to where Rose's body had hit. "Rose!" He shoved the person holding him back. "Rose!"

"I'm here Jack." He looked down and saw her. She was still on the floor, but she was sitting up, using the wall for support. Gazing at her ashen face and wide, frightened eyes, Jack was seized by overwhelming guilt. This was what he had been trying to protect her from. He dropped to his knees and took her face in his hands. "Why did you do that?" he demanded, tears stinging his eyes. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, his voice rising. "I sent you away for a reason! Why didn't you listen?" He pressed his forehead to hers. "Do you know what could have happened to you? Why didn't you stay away until I said it was safe?"

"You jump, I jump, right?"

Jack was speechless. When he'd said that he'd meant it to apply only to him. As far as he was concerned the only one of them who would doing the jumping to save the other was him. But Rose wouldn't let it be that way. She came back for him. He'd believed her when she said she loved him. He'd known deep inside it was true, and he'd believed it when she said she wanted to marry him. But it wasn't until that moment that he realized just how much she was willing to do for him. He hugged her tightly. "Right."

The moment was interrupted by a tap on Jack's shoulder. "Alright, enough of that as well," a brisk voice said. Jack and Rose stared up at one of the ship's officers. Gradually they realized a crowd had gathered around them. A few feet away Cal was being helped to his feet by another two officers. His once snow white shirt was now a deep red. He was trying to wipe the blood from his face with a handkerchief but was discovering it to be an impossible task. Hatred burned in his eyes as he caught sight of Jack and Rose. "You!" he screamed, pointing at them. The officers each grabbed one of his shoulders. "Calm down sir," one of them said firmly.

"Calm down?" Cal yelled incredulously. "That piece of gutter filth just attacked me. He nearly killed me, and you expect me to calm down?"

"You attacked us!" Rose screamed. She turned to the officer who had pulled Jack off him. "Don't listen to what he says! He's lying!"

"Miss, do you know this man?" he asked, indicating Cal.

"Yes. I was engaged to him."

"Was?" Cal screeched.

"Sir, you'll really have to calm down," the officer said. He turned back to Rose. As the only person involved he hadn't seen trying to kill someone she seemed like the person most likely to explain the situation coherently. "And who is this man?" He pointed to Jack.

"He's the man I'm engaged to now," she explained. Jack couldn't suppress a small smile as she said it.

"Uh-huh..." He eyed Rose's clothes. The difference in her status and Jack's was obvious. "I think I have a pretty good idea of what happened. You left him-" He indicated Cal with his head. "-for him-" a nod toward Jack "-fairly recently didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And he here wasn't too happy about it, was he?"

"He only just found out actually. There wasn't time to explain. He and his valet were chasing us. We were just trying to protect ourselves." Tears stung her eyes. _He has to believe me. Oh God don't let Cal find a way to blame this on Jack._

"Don't worry miss," he said kindly. "Nothing's going to happen to you."

She tightened her grip on Jack. "It isn't me I'm worried about."

Jack kissed her hair. "Don't worry about me," he said softly. "I'll be fine."

"Are you really going to listen to them?" Cal snapped, disgusted. "I'm the one you had to pull someone off of!"

"Yes, I'm quite aware of that, sir," the officer said unsympathetically. "And I'm well aware of how much you've suffered." _You overindulged bastard._

"Well then do something! Arrest him!"

"I'm not convinced I have a reason to."

"What?"

"Well, given the young lady's story and their behavior toward each other it looks as though he was just trying to defend his fiancee."

"She's _my_ fiancee!"

"Well, that's not what _she_ says. Perhaps you should think about talking to her a bit more often."

"But you pulled him off me! I'm the one covered in blood!"

"Yes, that's true, but I'm still not convinced he deserves to be arrested. If he was the one who did the attacking, how did the young lady end up unconscious on the floor when we arrived?" Cal could only sputter incoherently. "That's what I thought," the officer said. He looked at the other two officers, who were clearly outranked by him. "Take him back to his room so he can compose himself."

"You want to stay with him?" Cal yelled as they began to lead him away. "To be a whore to a gutter rat?"

Jack opened his mouth to yell back but was beaten to it by Rose. "I'd rather be his whore than your wife," she said with a quiet intensity that stunned them all.

Cal was speechless. Suddenly he just didn't have the energy to fight anymore. He could only stare vacantly over his shoulder at them as he was led away.

Jack gently helped Rose to her feet. She swayed for a second before placing a hand on his chest to steady herself. He took hold of her shoulders. "Are you okay?" She nodded. "I'm fine. I just stood up too quickly." The corridor spun. She could tell by the look in his eyes he didn't believe her. "I'm fine Jack," she insisted. "I'll be fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I'm just tired, and after everything that's happened..." She signed. "Can we go back to your room now? Please?"

He kissed her forehead. "Of course we can."

The crowd silently parted for them as they slowly made their way down the corridor. All eyes were trained on them as they passed. Once they rounded the corner and were out of sight a low murmur ran through the crowd as each person began sharing his or her opinion of the scene with the person next to them who was also sharing his or her opinion with the person next to them. None of them had seen the fight begin, but that didn't stop each of them from having their own theory. A handful believed Rose's story. Another handful believed Cal's story. Still another believed something else entirely had happened. The two men who had ventured out into the hallway first to see what the yelling was about and who had been the ones to fetch the authorities were suddenly heroes, or at the very least suddenly much more interesting than they had ever been before.

The crowd was finally about to disperse when Fabrizo and Tommy stumbled upon it. "What's going on?" Tommy asked, peering over the heads of the people in front of him. He was puzzled when he saw nothing but an empty hallway. The woman next to him leaned over and said, "It was a fight. It's over now though. Some officers broke it up." She glanced at him and Fabrizo, noting the spark of curiosity in their eyes. "I don't know who it was," she continued, "except that it was some swell and one of ours."

Fabrizo and Tommy exchanged worried looks. They were both thinking the same thing. Jack. "It didn't happen to be over a lady, did it?" Fabrizo asked, a note of anxiety in his voice.

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

"What happened to the men involved?" Tommy asked.

"Nothing really. The swell was escorted back to his section, and the other man and the woman just left together."

"Thanks," Fabrizo said as he and Tommy began making their way through the crowd.

Meanwhile, Jack and Rose were trying to recover from the night's events. He'd been relieved to see that the two Swedes he and Fabrizo were sharing the room with had yet to show up. They were nice enough guys, but he wanted Rose to have a few minutes of peace and quiet so her mind could settle. Fabrizo wasn't there either, but he wouldn't have minded so much if he had been. They were best friends after all, and he seemed to understand the way he felt about Rose.

They hadn't spoken since leaving the hallway, and Jack's mind was spilling over with unasked questions and unstated fears. Rose had insisted she was fine, but he wasn't so sure. Her face still hadn't recovered its color, and he'd detected more of a need for support than comfort when she'd leaned on him during the walk back to his room. _She just doesn't look right_ , he thought as he studied her face. _There's just something wrong_. A wave of nausea passed over him as he remembered the hollow sound of her body hitting the wall, the way her body slumped to the floor and didn't move.

"Why are you staring at me Jack?" she asked softly.

"I just...are you sure you're okay?"

It was on the tip of her tongue to declare just how okay she was, but the look in his eyes stopped her. _Don't insult him by lying again._ "My head feels like it's been split open," she admitted. "And the room keeps going out of focus."

 _See where trying to be a hero got you? See what you did to her?_ "Rose, it sounds like you might have a concussion," he said slowly.

Fear flickered in her eyes. "Do you really think so?"

"There's a good chance." He had trouble getting the next sentence out. "You did hit the wall pretty hard."

"What should we do?"

"Well, we're gonna go find the infirmary. Unless you don't think you can handle walking," he added.

"I can." Her tone held a hint of her usual fire.

He took her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Just as they were about to start making their way toward the door it burst open and in flew Fabrizo and Tommy. "We heard," Tommy said. Fabrizo nodded. "Yeah," he added.

There was no need to ask what they were talking about. "What're they saying out there?"

"Lotsa things," Fabrizo said.

Jack sighed. And by tomorrow morning there wouldn't be a soul on the whole ship that hadn't heard some version of it. "Well, don't listen to them. Help me get Rose to the infirmary and I'll tell you everything."

….

Cal slammed the door to his suite. He ripped his dinner jacket and threw it to the ground with a wail of frustration. He didn't notice Lovejoy calmly watching from across the room. "I'm guessing it didn't go well," he said dryly.

Cal's head snapped up. "Do you really think so?" he snapped. "Because I was of the opinion that it had gone exactly as planned!" His voice rose. "And where the hell were you when that little bastard was doing this?" He held up his swollen and bloody right hand.

Lovejoy stifled the laugh that rose in his throat. _He bit you? You couldn't stop a twig like him from biting you? No wonder you never do your own fighting_. But when he spoke it was in his usual humorless tone. "You might want to have that checked out. From the looks of it he might have done some actual damage, and who knows what someone like him might have."

Cal eyed his wounded hand warily. "You're right."

"Wouldn't hurt to have your nosed looked at as well," Lovejoy added. _My God, he did do a number on you didn't he?_

"My nose?" Up until then Cal had been too consumed by rage to feel the effects of his wounds, but the second Lovejoy mentioned his nose it began to ache. He hurried into the bathroom and was amazed to see his nose was now twice its usual size and an interesting new shape. He stomped out, his mouth curled in disgust. "That little bitch," he hissed.

Lovejoy raised an eyebrow. "She did that?" Suddenly all of his respect for Cal was gone. _You let him bite you, and you let her break your nose?_

"Yes, she did that!" Cal yelled. "For him! That little slut tried to kill me—for him!" He punched the wall. "'I'd rather be his whore than your wife'," he mocked. "That's what she said to me!"

"So it's over then?"

Cal stared at him. "Is that what I said?"

…

Meanwhile Rose had just finished being examined by the ship's doctor whose gaze kept shifting back and forth from her to Jack. _He can't figure us out,_ she thought. _No-one can._ There was something comforting about it. It was a reminder of just how special what they shared really was. Jack sat next to her on the bed, tightly gripping her hand. His eyes hadn't left her face since they'd gotten there.

"What's wrong with me?" Rose asked wearily.

"Well, you don't have a concussion, but you do have quite a nasty bump. I'm not surprised you're experiencing pain and dizziness." He gave Jack a withering look. "How did you say it happened again?"

Jack's heart sank. _He thinks it's me. He thinks I did it_. At that moment, as if she had read his mind, Rose glanced over at him and squeezed his hand. "I slipped," she said. "It was a stupid accident."

"Uh-huh." His tone told them exactly what he thought of her explanation. "Well, you'll be fine, but you shouldn't go to sleep for another hour or two." He handed her a packet with two small pills in it. "These should help with the headache. If the dizziness doesn't go away within the next three hours, come back." He cast one last look in Jack's direction. "And try not to have any more accidents." Jack stared at his back as he walked away. The urge to scream was overwhelming _. I didn't hurt her! I would never hurt her! If I were wearing a $300 suit I bet you wouldn't have even looked twice at me._

Rose cupped his chin and turned his head so he was facing her. "Ignore it."

"I can't." He sighed. "That's how everyone is going to look at us."

"I don't care."

"Maybe not now, but—"

"Not ever."

While Jack and Rose faced the future scrutiny their relationship would bring, Tommy and Fabrizo were anxiously waiting outside in the hall. "Think she's okay?" Fabrizo asked. Tommy nodded. "I'm sure she is." They lapsed back into silence, both refusing to think about how Jack would react if she wasn't.

Tommy nudged Fabrizo with his elbow. "Look." Coming toward them was a well-dressed man with black hair and an obviously broken nose. Neither of them had ever seen Cal before, but they knew it was him.


	5. Chapter 5

Fabrizo had just stepped into the doorway of the infirmary when Cal shoved past him. He threw a glare over his shoulder and swore under his breath. Fabrizo and Tommy stared helplessly as he hurried inside. "How' m I gonna warn them now?" Fabrizo asked frantically. "He's walkin right-"

"There's nuthin we can do," Tommy said. "Nuthin except wait."

Fortunately for Jack and Rose the infirmary had two rooms, an inner room and an outer room. They were in the inner room. They were just about to leave when they heard a haughty voice bellowing for "Some damned assistance!" They froze. Jack tensed and pulled her closer. "Is that—" Rose began. "Sssh," he said, putting a finger up to her mouth. They waited anxiously for the voice to speak again. They didn't have to wait long.

"Alright, alright, what seems to be the problem young man?" They heard the doctor ask.

"The problem is that my nose is broken and my hand resembles something a dog—"

"Ah, yes, I see it. Hold still so I can get a better look. Well, now that is quite a nasty bite."

"It's more than a 'nasty bite!'" Cal snapped.

"Sir, you really must calm down. Step in here, won't you?"

They didn't need to speak. Moving as one they dove onto the nearest bed and pulled the curtain around it. A second later the doctor entered the room followed by Cal. They were both too distracted to notice the closed curtain. Rose shook in Jack's arms as they heard him stop just inches from where they were hiding. Jack squeezed her tightly and pressed his lips to her forehead. _It's alright Rose._ He hoped somehow she could hear his thoughts _. I won't let anything happen to us._ They listened, holding their breath, as Cal was asked about his injuries.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I was assaulted this evening."

"Well, that much is clear, sir. I just can't imagine who would have the audacity to—"

"A man from steerage," Cal said.

"You never know what to expect from people like that," the doctor said sympathetically.

Rose stopped shaking, her fear replaced by anger. She bent Jack's head down and pressed his forehead to hers. _Ignore it_ , she said with her eyes. _He doesn't know what he's talking about. All he sees is money._ Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes, but he blinked them away. _She's still worried about how I feel. Here we are, inches away from a possible destruction and she's only thinking about how what they're saying might make me feel_. Jack wasn't deluding himself into thinking their word would be taken over Cal's a second time. He knew what would happen if they were discovered, especially given the doctor had made clear his opinion of him even before Cal showed up. But instead of seeing Rose's focus on him rather than on the precariousness of their situation as foolish, he saw it as selfless. Her silent concern for him spoke volumes. He managed a weak smile he hoped would reassure her and laid her head against his chest. _Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. We'll both be fine._

"Ow!" Cal howled. "What are you trying to do? Haven't I suffered enough?"

"It's just a mild antiseptic, sir. You wouldn't want this to get infected."

"No, I wouldn't," he admitted grudgingly. "God only knows what trash like that might have."

Jack closed his eyes and tried to block out everything but the scent of Rose's hair. _It doesn't matter. You're holding the only thing that matters._ He felt her fingertips gently begin stroking the back of his neck. It's okay Jack, she was trying to say. I'm here. Just keep your mind on us.

"Must be something in the air tonight," the doctor commented. "You're the third person I've had in here in the last two hours."

"How interesting," Cal said, sounding anything but interested.

"It was," the doctor continued, disregarding his tone. "They were the strangest looking couple I'd ever seen-" Jack and Rose looked at each other, horrified by what they were hearing. "-a pretty young woman and a, well, unkempt is the nicest word for it, young man."

Cal's interest was suddenly piqued. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. He was a bit roughed up, had a few bruises, but she was the one I was asked to look at."

"What was wrong with her?" he asked, trying not to sound interested.

"Well, it looked for a moment like she might have a mild concussion, but she didn't. She just barely escaped having one though. From what I could tell she'd had a terrible blow to the head."

"Did you find out what happened?"

"She said she fell and hit her head, but I don't know how she could have managed to hit herself in the back of the head. Who falls backwards unless someone's pushing them? My money was on the boy with her having something to do with it." His tone became brisk. "Alright, your hand looks good. You'll want to have your own doctor look at it when you get to New York, of course, but for now it should be fine. Let's take a look at that nose."

Jack and Rose held each other and listened as the doctor fussed and fretted over Cal's broken nose for a half hour before he finally announced he'd "done all he could." Cal thanked him tersely and left. They heard the doctor leave soon after. But neither of them moved. Nor did they speak. They might have stayed that way for the rest of the night if Tommy and Fabrizo hadn't come in after them.

…

The room was silent save for Fabrizo's quiet snoring. Jack and Rose lay in the small bunk below him. It had been designed to fit only one person comfortably, but they weren't bothered by the cramped conditions. _What if we'd gotten on the ship together? Didn't the people who built this ship think about the possibility of a married couple having this room? But trash like us don't get married, do we?_ Jack had thought briefly, and somewhat bitterly, when they first settled in, but the longer he held Rose the farther away thoughts like that became.

At least, that's what was supposed to happen. His anger had actually just increased as the minutes ticked into hours. What right had a person who didn't know him at all, who had barely given him two glances, have to make assumptions about him? Assumptions about his hygiene? About his relationship with Rose? It was just wrong. Bu it wasn't about right. Or wrong. It was about power.

Power. The only sure way to have power was to have money, and he definitely didn't have any of that. He'd never been bothered that he was a self-described "poor guy". Deep down he knew he had the skills to take himself wherever he wanted to go, including up. But he didn't see any point in dedicating his life to the endless amassing of wealth. Meeting Rose had only confirmed his suspicions about the emptiness of a life among the upper class elite. She was so amazing, but no-one except him even seemed to notice. They were doing everything they could to stamp out the fire inside her. They don't want her to be a person. They want her to be a doll. Beautiful, delicate, and above all, silent. Wealth and all its restrictions had only made her miserable.

 _But if you were the one with the money, the one who could quite literally give her anything she might want, wouldn't it be different? Because she loves you?_

 _But would she have fallen in love with me if I had money? Would I even be the same person if I did?_

Rose's voice stopped him from digging himself any deeper into a hole of unanswerable questions. "I can feel you thinking," she whispered. Her breath was cool against his neck. "Sorry," he whispered back. "Keeping you awake?"

"I was awake anyway."

"You should get some sleep. It's been an exhausting day, and we'll be docking early tomorrow."

"I know. My body is exhausted, but my mind...I can't seem to silence it."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"Why don't you let me listen to your thoughts for a change? I think you need to talk more than I do."

He sighed. "Okay. I can't stop thinking about what happened in the infirmary."

"When Cal was there?"

"Then and before. I can't get over the things they said. Well, I'm not surprised by what he said, but I guess I live in my own little world so much I forget the way people are sometimes. I mean, I know. I'm well aware of the way the world works, but I'm pretty used to it. It stopped bothering me a long time ago. At least, I thought it did."

"What are people like?" she asked, prompting him to keep going.

"Always after money. And power."

The grimness in his tone frightened her. This wasn't the optimist she knew and loved. "Do you really think all people are like that?"

He thought for a moment. "I never did before, but now I'm not so sure."

"You're not like that."

"Yeah, but would it be better if I was?"

"How could you even say that?" She bolted upright, momentarily forgetting where she was. "Ow!" she cried, grabbing her already tender head. Her face crumpled in pain.

 _See what you've done to her now?_ Jack gently lowered her back into his arms. He cradled her head in his hands. "I've been doing a great job of taking care of you so far," he said bitterly. "Maybe they're right about me."

"No! Jack, no!" She looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. "Don't say that. Please, don't ever say that. Don't even think it."

"But look what's happened to you tonight because of me."

"You didn't make me try to take on Cal, if that's what you mean. I chose to do that, and I knew he was bigger and stronger than me when I did."

"But you shouldn't have had to," he protested. "I was supposed to take care of it. I was supposed to take care of you. I should have been a man, and-"

"And what? Do you really think if you'd just managed to hit him harder somehow it would have changed things? Made him less of a coldblooded bastard? Made the people who think you're nothing finally see you for the amazing person you are? And Jack, beating him half to death wouldn't have made you more of a man. It might have been satisfying on some level. I know it was when I broke his nose, but a real man isn't the one who hits the hardest or has the most money or any of the other absurd ideas the world has about what the way a man should be."

Her outpouring overwhelmed him. "What does it then? What makes a man?"

"I don't know exactly, but I know that whatever it is, you have it."

"Do you really believe that?"

She tilted his head down and ever so gently kissed his forehead. "I know it. Don't let what they said make you doubt yourself. You are the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I am?" His disbelief was evident in his tone. He'd been thinking all day that she was the best thing that ever happened to him, but to hear her say she felt that way about him was something he had never allowed himself to think possible.

"Of course you are. Jack, I love you. I want to spend my life with you. If you'll let me, that is," she added.

"Didn't we already decide who you're getting off the ship with?"

…..

"Planning to get up at some point today?"

Lovejoy's annoyed voice ripped through Cal's ears like a shotgun blast. He groaned and covered his still closed eyes with his hands. "What _can_ you be thinking of bothering me like this?" he snapped. His head pounded. He imagined it felt the way a nail might after being violently hammered into a wall. He knew better than to try and sit up. He settled for just barely opening his eyes. Lovejoy stared down at him, disgust written all over the older man's face.

 _Who are you to judge me?_ Cal thought, incensed by his unashamed impudence. _You'd still be_ _chasing down two-bit pickpockets if it wasn't for me_. "I don't see what business it is of yours," he said. "But yes, I am."

"You might want to think about making it soon. We dock in less than two hours."

"What?" Cal bolted upright. Were they really already about to dock? Where had the time gone? _You were too busy chasing down that slut to realize what day it was yesterday._ "What time is it?" he demanded.

"Now you're interested," Lovejoy commented dryly. "It's a quarter to 10."

"And you couldn't have woken me up before now?" Cal said angrily as he climbed out of bed. "I should have been up a good three hours ago!"

"Well, you were sleeping so soundly. It seemed like a crime." Lovejoy's voice was thick with sarcasm.

"That wasn't sleep. That was unconsciousness." Cal rubbed his temples. He felt nauseous. Standing up had made his headache even worse.

"Spend the night with your good friend Mr. B again?"

Cal shot him a withering look. "It's those damn painkillers that incompotent ship's doctor gave me. They were supposed to help with the pain in my nose."

"You didn't discover you were the proud new carrier of some foul disease courtesy of that boy I'm assuming."

Cal's mouth twisted. He had the worst hang-over of his life, and he hadn'tt even been drinking, a broken nose, a hand that would no doubt scar horrifically, his fiancee had announced in front of half the ship that she was leaving him to become a whore, and now his valet, his confidant, the closest thing he had to a friend—though friend was not a word either man would have ever used to describe their relationship—was mocking his plight. "Fortunately I did not," he said through closed teeth. He turned on his heel and strode toward the bathroom. "And I'd like to remind you who signs your checks," he added over his shoulder.

"Your father?"

Cal clenched his jaw. Would the disrespect never end?

…..

Meanwhile Ruth was waking up with a headache that rivaled Cal's. Alcohol was not something her body was accustomed to. She never drank unless it was a glass of wine or champagne with a meal. To her, the sight of a woman with a glass of liquor in her hand was nothing short of deplorable. Of course, it was quite alright for a man to drink, even if they did occasionally drink a bit too much. That was their right. After all, without them, who would take care of women? If anyone had dared suggest that a woman might be better off taking care of herself rather than throwing herself at the mercy of the wealthiest man in sight there was a good chance she would have quite literally laughed herself to death. The Declaration of Sentiments was not a document Ruth cared to affix her signature to.

She rang for the maid and had a cup of scalding black coffee brought to her. Sipping it slowly she sat in bed and tried to will the room to stop spinning. _How did I come to this?_ And then she remembered. Rose's disappearance. The thin lies told to cover it up. Leaving dinner early. Discovering that not only had she returned, but she had brought him with her. Ruth closed her eyes in an effort to block out the images that flashed through her mind. Rose and that boy—she couldn't bring herself to call him anything else—together. On her bed. Their clothes scattered around the floor. The shocked look in his eyes when he'd realized she was there. _Why, Rose_ , _why? How could you?_ Her hopes for absolving Rose, of explaining it all away as the tragic consequences of a naive young girl trusting a lecherous confidence man had been dashed by Rose's proud declarations to the contrary. "I wanted him to! I asked him to!" The words echoed in her head, leaving behind a pain that had nothing to do with the alcohol she had consumed.

Her voice was heavy. "Rose, do you realize what you've done?"

…..

Conversations ceased and all eyes were on them as Jack and Rose made their way into the Third Class dining hall. "Wonder what they're lookin at?" Jack joked, his usual cheerfulness sounding forced. Rose smiled weakly. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it must be fascinating." Doing their best to avoid the stares they took a place in line. "You could go," Jack offered. "If you want to. You could wait in my room, and I'll-" Rose shook her head quickly. "No. They can stare all they want. I'm not leaving." Whispers followed them as they carried their food across the room and sat down. They tried their best to maintain a normal conversation, but were silenced by the one going on behind them.

"Shut up! They're right there!" They heard a female voice hiss.

"Where?" Another woman asked.

"Shut up! Right there. Right in front of us. Are you blind?"

"She's not that pretty," the second woman said a moment later.

Rose's face burned _. I never said I was_ , she thought angrily. _What business is it of yours what I_ _look like?_ Jack squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry. Let's go," he mouthed. She shook her head. She would not let the idle gossip of strangers affect her behavior. She straightened her back and lifted her chin. She ate her food slowly and politely, daring them to say something else. Jack just stared dismally at his plate. _You knew people were talkin. Why'd you bring her into this?_

"Is too," a male voice said. One of the women snorted. "Yeah, if you like 'em dainty and helpless maybe." The two women laughed viciously.

Rose stiffened. She wished she could just turn around and scream. _What gives you the right to presume you know anything about me? You sound just like all of the people upstairs who think you're all worthless!_ But she stayed silent. If there was one thing her education as a well-brought up girl had taught her, it was how to remain graceful under pressure. Jack forced himself to keep eating. The sooner they finished the sooner they could leave. Rose's face was blank, but he could see the anger smoldering in her eyes. _You don't have to do this. You don't have to prove anything-not to me or them. Just c'mon_. But he didn't say it. He knew she wouldn't have listened.

They heard a fourth person sit down behind them. "What are you two cackling about?" a second male voice asked. The two women began to whisper, sounding to Jack like snakes hissing. "Right there?" the man asked, disbelief ringing in his voice. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. "Her?"

"Yes, her," the first woman said. "Can you believe it?"

"Why not?"

"What do you mean 'why not'? Look at her!" the second woman said angrily.

"I did."

"Don't tell me you think she's worth all that!"

"I don't know why he's keeping her around," the first woman added scornfully. "It doesn't make any sense. What can she possibly be doing for him?"

Jack's hands started to shake. _Stay calm. Just take Rose's hand and walk out. Just go._ He pushed his chair back and began to stand up. "I know what she's doing for him," one of the men said. "But she can't be that-" The rest of his statement came out as a started yelp as an unseen hand shoved his face into the table. His companions jumped to their feet. The two woman gasped, their hands over their mouths. The other man just stared, too shocked to do much else as Jack grabbed his friend by the shirt and pulled him roughly to his feet. He spun him around. "Do you see her?" he yelled, pointing at Rose.

She took a step toward him. "Jack-"

His looked at her, his eyes pleading. "Rose, no, please." He turned his attention back to the man. "Do you see her?" he asked again, shaking him. The man nodded. "I-I see her." "Do you know what she is?" "I-she-" He dropped his head. "I didn't think so," Jack said disgustedly. "If you did you'd know better than to ever talk about her like that. Look at her!" he added, his voice rising. The man lifted his head. "That's a lady you're looking at," Jack said quietly. "And she deserves your respect. So give it to her." He shoved him to the side and let him go. Rose grabbed his hand. "Jack, come on." The room was eerily silent as she led him out the door.

"I'm sorry," he said once the dining hall was no longer in sight. His voice shook. "I'm so sorry, Rose." She back him up against the wall. "Sshh...It's okay," she said soothingly, brushing his golden locks out of his face. She laid her palm against his cheek. "It doesn't matter."

"It does! I shouldn't have lost control of myself like that. I tried so hard to ignore it, but...the way they were talking about you..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "No-one should ever talk about you like that."

"It's no different from how people were talking about you yesterday," she pointed out. "If you can take it so can I."

His heart swelled with love for her. "It's not the same. You're a woman."

"So? That doesn't mean I'm too weak to—"

"I know how strong you are," he said, taking her face in his hands. "But when people like Cal talk about me it's different from when he or anyone else-talks about you. When someone says things like that about a woman it changes the way people look at her. Men don't respect her the way they're supposed to. They think they can treat her however they want. But I won't let that happen to you. Rose, I won't."

"You can't get upset every time someone says something bad about me. No matter what there are always going to be people who don't understand why we're together. People who don't think one of us is good enough for the other, or who think you only want me because I'm a who-"

"Don't you say that!" He pressed his forehead to hers. "Don't you even think it. That's not what you are."

"That's what I told Cal I was going to be," she said, laughing nervously. "To you."

Jack winced. "That's not what you are to me. That's not what you'll ever be to me." _Why couldn't she be leaving him to be become my wife?_ he thought angrily. _Why doesn't anyone ever think that maybe I want to marry her?_

Rose gently kissed him. "I know that. I don't care what anyone else thinks, about either of us."

He was ashamed to admit it to himself, but he did care. He knew how many problems could be caused by what people said or thought, especially for Rose. As long as they were near anyone who knew anything about how they met there would be talk. Stares. Speculation. People assuming he had hurt her. That he seduced her, stole her away from a good life. Poor people hating her because she wasn't until she ran off with him. Rich people hating him because he wasn't good enough to even look at someone like her. He sighed. "Rose, are you sure?"

Her eyes filled with a hurt shock. "After everything we've been through, how can you ask that? How can you doubt—"

"I don't doubt how you feel," he assured her. He pulled her into a tight embrace. "It isn't like that at all. I just want you to understand what we'll be up against cause it ain't gonna be easy."

"I never said I expected it to be easy. Jack, I know exactly what we're up against." She smiled sadly. "The whole goddamn world."

He laughed in spite of himself. "Pretty much yeah."

Her voice was filled with hope. "Marry me anyway?"

"I'd be honored."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Yes, this is a story that was previously posted. I took down all of my old stories on different accounts and am editing and reposting them. Some will only change a little, and some will change a lot.**

The Third Class dining hall wasn't the only place buzzing with rumors. When Cal sat down at a small table by himself in the lounge he was immediately aware of a hush in the conversations around him. The inquisitive glances he received were subtle—polite really. Women's gazes were soft as they landed on his bruised, swollen nose and then on his bandaged hand. They smiled sweetly at him from all corners of the room. Men met his eyes and nodded in solidarity. All things considered it wasn't a terrible reception, and in fact, Cal rather enjoyed it. _Finally_ , he thought, _people who understand_. He chose not to notice the few women who made it a point to avoid looking in his direction, or the men whose glances invoked not understanding but pity.

He had just finished eating a plate of dry toast—the only thing his stomach could handle—when Lovejoy appeared at his elbow. "Her mother's been asking where she is," he said quietly. Cal grunted. He'd managed to temporarily forget all about Rose's mother, and he'd liked it that way. "Tell her she's busy getting fucked by that piece of filth," he spat. Lovejoy suppressed a smile. _Bitter that he's getting what you never could_? "I don't think now is the time for one of your outbursts," he said flatly. "Especially since the last one didn't go so well for you."

Cal glared at him. "My father might be the one who pays you, but I can make sure he stops."

"I was merely pointing out the need for prudent behavior. That's all."

"What do you suggest I say then?" Cal asked a moment later.

"About her? Or about what happened to you?"

"Both you moron!" he yelled, jumping to his feet.

"I'd suggest lowering your voice or continuing this conversation somewhere else," Lovejoy said quietly. "Wouldn't want anyone else to take their side, would you?"

Cal swore under his breath. "Let's go."

Ruth's moment of despair had been brief. When life gave her lemons she found someone to make them into lemonade for her, and that's exactly what she was going to do with the lemons that had just been thrown at her. She rang for a maid, had herself dressed, and then, discovering they were docking in only a matter of hours, ordered her things packed. "And have Trudy take care of Rose's things," she added. The young woman stared at her for a moment, puzzled by the request, she knew, like just about everyone else on the ship, at least one story about Rose's defection, but she did as she was told.

Ruth had chosen to pretend nothing had happened, but despite her best efforts reality kept destroying the lie she was attempting to live in. "Ma'am," Trudy said nervously. "I don't know if you know this, but Miss Rose isn't here."

"She isn't?" she asked, doing her best to sound surprised. Trudy shook her head. "No, ma'am. I haven't seen her at all this morning." Ruth felt her headache returning. "Perhaps she woke up early and wanted to get some air," she said lightly. "You know how she can be sometimes." Trudy nodded. "Yes, that's it ma'am. I'll go pack her things."

But it wasn't long before she was back. "What now?" Ruth asked, exasperation thinning her voice.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but well, most of her things are gone," Trudy said nervously.

"What do you mean 'gone'?" Ruth snapped.

"Gone, ma'am. About half of her dresses, her underthings—except for her corsets, that is—her shoes, her jewelry, a suitcase, and the paintings she bought in Paris."

Ruth took a deep breath. Her headache was back, and it was worse than before. "Find out if anyone has seen her," she said calmly. "Go and ask Mr. Hockley if he's seen her." She was sure it would be a waste of time. After all, hadn't she watched Rose literally run away the night before? And she had a suitcase. And he grabbed the paintings. Her stomach churned. _Now is not the time to get emotional. Just go on as if you don't know anything. It might still be possible to salvage the situation_. She was still blissfully unaware of Cal's encounter with them.

"Yes, ma'am," Trudy said, hurrying from the room.

Ruth dropped onto the small couch, her head falling into her hands. _Pull yourself together. She might be doing her best to destroy everything, but you can fix it. You can still make things work out._

Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, she stood up. She patted her hair and plastered a pleasant expression on her face as the sitting room door opened and Cal walked in, followed closely by Lovejoy. They were whispering to each other, their voices too low for her to make out what they were saying _. What can they be talking_ about? she wondered frantically _. Does he know what she did?_ Ruth didn't know how Cal could have found out, but she didn't know how else to explain their solemn expressions and what looked like an attempt at secrecy. _And what happened to his nose?_ His injured hand was tucked in his pocket, safely out of sight.

"I'm told you haven't been able to find Rose this morning," Cal said, adopting a smooth, calm tone.

"No, I'm afraid I haven't. I was hoping she was with you."

Lovejoy chuckled quietly to himself. "I'm sorry to say I haven't seen her either," Cal replied. Ruth's eyes widened, and she did her best to appear concerned. "But I know where she is," he continued, forcing his voice to crack slightly. "Though it pains me to say it."

"She isn't," Ruth lowered her voice, "with _him_ , is she?"

Cal nodded. "I'm quite sorry to say she is."

Ruth gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Why, we must go fetch her! Quickly, before the ship docks and he carries her off to God only knows where."

"I agree. It is imperative that we get her back, but there's little we can do while aboard this ship."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's just say I already tried to bring her back and failed," he said. "I tried to speak with her last night, but she refused to hear reason. She became hysterical. She was screaming and drawing a crowd-the vilest, most disreputable people you can possibly imagine-and then he grabbed her and started pulling her away. I tried to stop him, but when I reached out to touch her he bit my hand, the savage. And when I made a move to defend myself she hit me." He shook his head sadly. "I just don't know what came over her."

"I can't apologize enough for her behavior," Ruth said. "I tried to keep her away from him, but he must have found a way to get to her somehow. He has some sort of hold on her."

"Well, we aren't going to let him just steal her," Cal said. "Though we are going to make it look that way." Ruth listened intently as he outlined his plan. Her spirits lifted as she realized that in spite of all the trouble she'd caused, he was more determined than ever to marry her. "This isn't her fault," he explained. "He's manipulating her. She doesn't know what she's doing." He didn't believe that at all, but he wanted to. Ruth nodded. "You're right." _Yes, that's exactly what's_ _happening_ , she thought. _That has to be it._

….

Jack and Rose stood on deck and watched as New York came into view. "Wow," he said, awestruck. "It's beautiful," Rose agreed. "I never thought it was before, but it is." _Because I'm_ _seeing it with you_ , she wanted to add. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see it again," he said with a chuckle. "If I hadn't won that ticket who knows when I would have made it back."

"Well, you certainly know how to make a case for the benefits of gambling."

"That so?"

"Quite. I don't think the Temperance supporters would care very much for you."

He sighed dramatically. "Guess I can't win 'em all." Rose laughed. "We have to do that!" she cried, her eyes lighting up. Jack gave her a puzzled look. "Fight the evils of liquor? That might be a problem because you've proven that yes, a first class girl can indeed drink." She punched him playfully on the arm. "No! We should play poker!"

"Sure you could handle it? It's not the politest environment," he teased. Rose dismissed his comment with a quick toss of her head. "I'm through being polite...goddamnit!" she said, barely getting the last word out. Jack erupted into laughter. "That's tellin 'em!"

"I mean it," she said solemnly. "I'm through with all of that."

"Rose, I don't want you to think you have to change."

"I'm not going to change. I'm going to become myself." She smiled up at him. "I'm going to keep becoming myself." Jack was about to reply when he was interrupted by a loud horn blast. "Sounds like we're docking," Rose said excitedly. He took her hand. "Let's go get our stuff."

His room was empty when they got there. "Wonder where Fabrizo is," he said, casting his gaze up to the top bunk. His fully packed bag sat on the neatly made bed. "His things are still here," Rose said. "So he must be coming back." Jack nodded. _Why are you so worried about it? He's a grown man, you know._

 _Yeah, I know, but..._

Jack couldn't find the right words to finish the thought. He didn't know how to explain, even to himself, the strange feeling of unease that had come over him when they walked into his empty room. They hadn't seen Fabrizo at all that morning. He'd already left by the time they woke up. Jack didn't know why, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was avoiding them.

Almost as if the universe wanted to prove him wrong, at that moment the door opened and Fabrizo walked in. His head was down, a cigarette in his mouth. "Jack," he said, sounding shocked.

Jack hid his confusion behind a grin. "Yeah, it's me. Where ya been? We're docking."

"I know. I just came to get my bag," he said, stepping past him and grabbing his bag off the bunk. "What do you mean?" Jack asked, startled. He'd never seen him act like this before. Fabrizo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm leavin," he said, his Italian accent thickening slightly. "You two alone," he added.

Jack's head spun. For a year he and Fabrizo had traveled together. They'd been best friends, like brothers really, almost inseparable, and now he was ending it? "Why?" was the only word Jack could get out.

Rose watched the exchange taking place in front of her and wished she wasn't there. The tension building between Jack and Fabrizo was palpable. _This is because of me_. Her stomach knotted. _It's because I'm here. I'm in the way._

"You and Rose are gettin married," he said. "You're not gonna want me around."

"That's not true!" Rose exclaimed. Her face burned as both their heads whipped toward her. She hadn't intended to speak. It had just slipped out. "It isn't," she said, in a normal voice this time. Jack wanted to hug her. "She's right," he said. "We don't want you to go."

Fabrizo struggled to find the words to explain how he felt. How to explain to Jack, a man he loved like a brother, without whom he might never have gotten to America, that their life together was over? That there wasn't any other way? "Lo e te e tua moglie? Jack, sai che non funzionerà. I tre di noi non possono semplicemente andare alla deriva via insieme. Le cose ora sono diverse," he said, hoping he could express in Italian what he couldn't seem to in English. "Me and you and your wife? Jack, you know that won't work. The three of us can't just go drifting off together. Things are different now."

"Perché?" Jack said. "Why?" "Solo perché Rose è con me ora non significa niente cambierà tra te e me." "Just because Rose is with me now doesn't mean anything is going to change between you and me."

"Noi non possiamo vivere come siamo stati. Non si può dormire per strada e mi sveglio non sapendo se ti mangi quel giorno con una moglie," Fabrizo argued. "We can't live the way we have been. You can't sleep on the streets and wake up not knowing if you'll eat that day with a wife."

Jack was flabbergasted. It had never occurred to him that Fabrizo might be thinking that way. He hadn't even been thinking that way. He'd been so focused on everything else that was going on he hadn't even bothered to think about how Rose's presence would affect his life. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to marry her the moment their feet landed on American soil, but that was as far ahead as he'd planned. It was the most planning he'd done in years. _But he's right. Things won't be the same now. I can't let Rose sleep under bridges or go hungry_. "Forse le cose saranno diverse," he said finally. "Ma questo non significa che devi lasciare. Possiamo figura qualcosa che funziona per tutti noi." "Maybe things will be different. But that doesn't mean you have to leave. We can figure something that works for all of us." "We need a witness at our wedding," he added in English. "And I don't want anyone else to do it. So you have to hang around at least a few more hours."

"Yes," Rose said. Her green eyes were pleading. "Please?" _Please don't leave Jack_ , she wanted to add. She didn't speak Italian, but "Rose" in Italian sounded very similar to "Rose" in English. _Please don't think you have to go because of me. He loves you. I don't want you to go either_. She hadn't spent very much time with him, but she knew she liked him. He was sweet and funny. And it didn't hurt that he obviously cared a lot about Jack. She'd never had male friends before, but she wanted to try and be his friend.

Fabrizo looked from Rose to Jack. "Alright!" he said finally. "I'll do that. But," he added, pointing a hand at both of them. "After that I go."

"We'll see about that," Jack said, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He didn't know what they would do or how they would live, but he was confident a solution would present itself, a compromise between the wandering he knew Rose wanted to do; she hadn't come right out and said it, but he could tell that's what she was hoping for, and the more settled life he knew they needed. _We'll find a way. All three of us. It'll be a little different, but so is Rose marrying me._

….

"C—can we say our own?" Jack asked nervously. "Vows, I mean?" Rose gave him a questioning look but didn't say anything. The judge shrugged. "I don't see why you couldn't. What you say isn't important. It's the piece of paper that matters."

 _That's not true,_ Jack wanted to say _. It's the words that matter. The promise to her._ But he settled for a quick smile and a "Thanks." He turned to Rose and raised her hands to his lips. "I saw you out on that deck," he said quietly, "and I knew even then I wanted to do this." Rose shivered as he kissed her hand. His lips were cool and soft against her skin. Everything melted away—the small room they were in, the judge in front of them, Fabrizo standing off to the side watching—as he began to speak again. "Rose, I love you. I know everyone thinks I'm not good enough to even look at you, but—" He took a deep breath. "But I'll make you happy. I can't give you a diamond the size of a fist. I wish I could because that's what you deserve, but I'll probably never be able to give you anything close to that. I can't lay the world at your feet, but I can show it to you." He squeezed her hands. "I can take you out to the horizon whenever we feel like it. I can love you with everything I have in me. I can help you make each day an adventure. And I promise to do that. And I promise to never, ever raise a hand to you. I'll never leave you, and I'll never give you a reason not to trust me. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I'm gonna show you that for the rest of our lives."

Rose blinked away the tears that had formed in her eyes. "That was beautiful," she whispered. "I don't have anything like that." Jack grinned, tears of his own starting to form. "I just made it up."

"Oh Jack," she laughed. "When I'm with you," she began a moment later, all trace of laughter gone from her voice, "I feel free. I feel as though I can fly. You've already made me happier than I ever knew was possible. You are the kindest, most beautiful, gifted, amazing man I have ever known. You've gone through so much for me, and I promise to never put you through anything like that again. I won't let you be hurt, not because of me or anything else, but especially not because of me. There aren't words for how much I love you. I don't care what anyone says—about either of us—we were meant to be together. We were meant to make each day count together. Jack, I promise to hold on no matter what, to hold on to you, to us. I promise to take care of you the way you've been taking care of me." She pressed their clasped hands against her heart. "You're here," she said tearfully. "You'll always be here."

Jack didn't wait for permission to kiss her before pulling her into his arms. He lost his hands in her curls as she hugged him tightly. They kissed hungrily, as if they'd never get another chance, trying to pour all the words they couldn't find into that one kiss. They were gasping for air when they finally parted.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you a ring," Jack said softly. She smiled radiantly up at him. "It doesn't matter. I don't need one."

"I'm getting you one," he insisted. "Just as soon as I possibly can." He smiled and kissed her forehead. "I want everyone to know you're my wife."

…

They ate a quick dinner after the wedding, but Fabrizo was the only one of them who would ever be able to say for sure what they ate. Jack and Rose only had eyes for each other. They ate one-handed, each leaving a hand free to hold the other's with across the table. Fabrizo watched, astounded by the energy that flowed between them. Their physical connection was obvious. It had been all along, in the way they looked at each other, the way they couldn't seem to stop touching. He had watched their wedding kiss, watched the way Jack crushed her body to him, the way Rose seemed to melt against him. How much they wanted each other was more than obvious. But there was something else. Their connection went much deeper than the purely sexual He could see it in their eyes as they gazed at each other. The pure love radiating off of them was almost tangible, and there were moments when he was sure if just reached out he would be able to touch it.

They'd taken three dollars out of Jack's last ten—one for the meal, he insisted on paying for all three of them and nothing Fabrizo said could dissuade him, and two for rooms. Not wanting to take the chance that they might end up with no place to sleep before they had figured out what to do next, Jack paid for two rooms through the beginning of the next week. He hoped it would give them enough time to come up with at least the beginnings of a plan. Once again, Fabrizo had tried to stop him, saying he could handle paying for his room himself, but Jack wouldn't hear of it. He knew how much money they both had, and out of the two of them he had the most. In the past there had never been much argument about who paid for where they stayed. Since they always shared a room—and once even a bed when there hadn't been enough money to rent a second one and they'd both refused to take it from the other—they always shared the cost, splitting it as best they could depending on who had how much money. But there was no question that that wasn't going to happen. Even if Jack did insist their lives didn't have to change as much as he thought, Fabrizo knew that at least one thing had. Their days of sharing a room were over forever.

He felt a slight pang as he settled into his bed that night. He'd never slept alone. Back home there had always been brothers and sisters, older and younger, sharing the room with him, crowding into the bed. And after he left with Jack things weren't all that different. There was still someone in the room with him. Someone he could reach over and nudge when he couldn't sleep. Someone he could talk to.

 _He didn't die. He's in the next room. Do you know what people would say if they heard those thoughts?_

He knew. He also knew he couldn't have explained why it mattered so much; He wished he could, but there wasn't a language he could have used to express how he felt. He liked Rose. He really did. He liked how happy she made Jack. He'd known things would change eventually. They would meet women, get married after a while, drift apart, but it all seemed to be happening so fast. He sighed and pulled the thin blanket up to his chin. It did little to keep out chill in the air. "It won't be so bad," he said to himself as he dozed off.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Jack and Rose were nowhere near sleep. It had been almost an hour since they'd come into the room, and they were still eying each other shyly from opposite sides. They both knew where they wanted things to go, but neither was sure how to begin. The boldness that had seized Rose so many times on the ship seemed to have abandoned her completely. It had been easy to be forward then, to throw caution to the wind and not care what he might think of her. They could have been ripped apart at any moment. She'd had to act, and she'd known he wouldn't. He was too much of a gentleman. _I threw myself on him, and_ _he still stopped to ask for permission_ , she thought. She loved that about him. She wouldn't change it for the world, but at that moment she couldn't help but wish he were the type of man who strode across the room and just grabbed a woman without caring whether she wanted him to or not.

It would have made things so much easier.

Jack was wishing something similar. He was wishing he weren't afraid to touch her, afraid to go over to her and take her in his arms. _She's your wife. Yeah, I know that. Married her just this afternoon. So what's the problem?_ The problem was he needed a sign. Something from her to indicate that was what she wanted _. Anything, Rose_ , he thought.

He looked over at her and their eyes met. The electric current that flowed between them sparked and they moved toward each other, as if pulled by invisible magnets. "Rose." "Jack." Their lips met before they could say anything else. She wrapped her arms around his neck and twisted his hair around her fingers. It was so soft. She'd never known a man's hair could be that soft. His hands pressed against the small of her back just like when they'd danced. She groaned and kissed him harder as he brought her closer to him. Suddenly all her shyness was gone. What was there to be shy or nervous about? They'd already done this once before, and even if they hadn't it was Jack.

 _Why did you waste so much time?_ she thought, pulling him toward the bed. He followed her willingly, his lips moving down her neck as they fell backwards. They continued to travel down even after they'd landed. A low moan escaped Rose's throat as he kissed her breasts through the thin cloth of her dress. "Take it off me, Jack," she commanded. "Now."

He was more than happy to oblige her.

Jack kept his eyes open the whole time. He could feel her body shuddering beneath him, feel the way she hugged him to her, digging her nails into his back, her legs wrapped around his hips, but he wanted to see it too. He needed to see the way the pleasure she was feeling etched itself in her face _. I'm doing that_ , he thought, almost too awestruck to feel the sensations running through his own body.

"Jack," she moaned, breaking through the daze he was falling into. "Faster. Please."

They held each other when it was over, their bodies laced together the way their fingers so often were. "I love you," he whispered, kissing her forehead lightly. She buried her face in his neck. Breathing in his scent she said, "I love you too." They didn't need to say anything else. They'd already said everything they could with and without words.

 _One Week Later_

 _The Waldorf-Astoria Hotel_

Ruth paced the length of her suite, too distracted to appreciate her lavish surroundings. Surroundings she'd fought so hard to keep herself in. Surroundings that could, at any moment, be replaced by a cheap two rooms in the slums. She shuddered as the image washed over her: the dirt, the pure filth, the loud, ill-mannered people, most of which probably couldn't speak even a word of English, they just chattered on in whatever gibberish passed for language in whatever God-forsaken country they were from, the dissolute, drunken men who threw away what little money did come their way on fleeting indulgences—of course it never occurred to her that this wasn't all that different from the way Cal often behaved—and then there were the women. Shameless every last one of them, jumping from man to man, a passel of bastards trailing behind them.

"I know how they live," she said aloud to herself. "I've seen it. I saw the way the servants in my father's house behaved. It was appalling the things they did." Thinking about the lower classes was something she avoided as much as possible, but in the days since the ship's docking in New York, she had found herself unable to think of much else. Rose was out there, somewhere, living among them.

 _Who knows what she might be doing, what he might have convinced her to do. Look what he managed to get her to do on the ship._ A wave of nausea gripped her stomach. The thought of Jack and Rose together at all repulsed her, but the thought of them together quite literally made her sick. Who knew what kinds of vile diseases he might have? He couldn't bathe that often, not living the way he did, and she was certain Rose was not the first woman he'd seduced. Nor would she be the last. She couldn't bring herself to even begin to think about the possibility of Rose becoming pregnant by him. It was just more than her mind could bear.

But out of everything, what upset her most was Cal's refusal to act. They'd been in New York for a week, and so far he'd done nothing. When she'd questioned him he'd dismissed her concerns with an "It isn't time. When it is, you'll understand exactly why I waited."

"How much more time can he need?" she grumbled to herself. "Is he intending to let them disappear into the city's underbelly forever?" A sharp knock on the door stopped her complaint from becoming a full blown rant. She threw open the door to reveal Cal—as if summoned by her thoughts. He smiled confidently. "I thought you should know that it's time."


	7. Chapter 7

In the breast pocket of Cal's jacket was a ransom note, written by Lovejoy. Its contents were simple: Jack had Rose, and he wanted a large sum of money in exchange for her. The words were printed in large, block letters. Lovejoy had even taken the liberty of misspelling a few. "It looks more realistic this way," he'd explained.

Ruth started at him incredulously. "It is?" she said. He nodded and stepped past her. "You're really going through with the plan?" she asked, pushing the door closed. "Yes," he said, picking up the telephone receiver and beginning to dial. A moment later he said, "Yes, is this the New York Police Department? Good because I need to report an abduction….Who? My fiancée…What? Oh, I know exactly who did it."

"You see I had to make it look legitimate," he explained while they waited for the police. "This way we can say we tried to cooperate with him, but it didn't work. We can say we were frightened, concerned for Rose's safety that we didn't know what to do." Ruth nodded, transfixed by what he was saying. It all made perfect sense. Why had she ever doubted him?

"You know I'm as anxious for Rose to come home as you are," he said. "And I know neither of us wants the truth about her recent behavior known to anyone else. So I'm sure you can understand why I chose to do this."

"I understand completely," Ruth said, her voice filled with relief. "I only hope it doesn't take the police long to find her." Cal leaned back in his chair and smiled. "How could it take long? It isn't as though they won't know exactly who to look for, and since he has no idea what coming there's no reason for him not to be using his own name."

While Cal and Ruth were gleefully planting evidence and all but rubbing their hands together in anticipation of Rose's swift return—and Jack's swift conviction for kidnapping followed by a lengthy prison sentence—the couple in question was blissfully lying in bed, completely unaware of what was about to come their way. They'd spent the previous week exploring New York, never giving a thought to the possibility that Cal—or Ruth even—might still be expecting Rose to marry him. "Even if I wasn't married to you already," Rose said the morning after their wedding, "My feelings had to have been made clear by now." Jack had just nodded. He didn't think either Cal or Rose's mother was the type to just give up; they were far too accustomed to getting their own way. But as the days passed and there was no sign that either of them even remembered they still existed, he began to wonder if perhaps he hadn't been wrong. Maybe they were just going to leave them alone after all. Maybe, as much as they hated it, they had come to accept Rose's decision.

 _Yeah, you're living in a fantasy if you think that._

 _Oh shut up. Do you see them anywhere around? That minion of his hasn't even shown up._

And with that he'd decided to put the whole thing out of his mind and focus on enjoying his new life. After all, he and Rose were married, what could they really do to them? Cal couldn't marry an already married woman.

The tension between Fabrizo and him was beginning to lessen, much to his relief, and Fabrizo and Rose were slowly starting to form a friendship of their own. Neither of them had ever been to New York before, and they were both amazed by the sights Jack showed them. They were entranced by everything around them. America was nothing like anything Fabrizo had seen anywhere in Europe. The buildings were newer and bigger. There were more people—of all sorts. It seemed like everyone they passed was speaking a different language.

Rose, on the other hand, had lived in America all her life yet had never known anything like what she was seeing existed. She was overwhelmed by just how much of the world she hadn't seen. Unable to hold in his curiosity about the faraway look that hadn't left her eyes in days, one afternoon as the three of them walked along, Jack finally asked, "Something wrong?"

"No. Why would you think there was?"

"You've just been awfully quiet today is all," he said with a shrug.

"I was thinking."

"About?" he pressed, a small knot forming in his belly. _She's not thinking about leaving you if that's what you're worried about._

"I—I'm not sure how to explain it," she said slowly. "Over the past few days you've shown me so much—so many things I didn't know existed—wonderful, amazing things. I just can't believe I've gone my whole life never knowing—" She fumbled for the right words. "I was always told I could have anything—everything, and I suppose you could say in some ways I have. But I was never happy; I always felt so closed in, and now I understand just how much all of that held me back—how much it holds so many people back."

Jack smiled and squeezed her hand. "I'll never hold you back." She returned the smile. "I know. You're the one that freed me."

 _No, that was you. You freed yourself,_ he wanted to say. _All I did was take your hand and show_ _you it was possible._

They tried to preserve what little money they had as best they could, spending it only when they needed food, and even then they used as little as possible. Jack knew he could easily go a day or two without eating, but he wasn't about to let Rose miss a meal. He was determined not to see her go hungry, even if it took his last dime. He tried not to spend anything on food for himself, but Rose wouldn't have it. "I'm not eating if you aren't," she said firmly, pushing away the sandwich he'd handed her. When it became obvious that she meant it, he'd given in. "Fine. We'll share it, okay?" he said. She smiled. "Okay. But don't you try this again." Fabrizo had tried something similar, but Rose wouldn't let him go without food either.

"You two can't do this," she insisted. "You can't feed me and not yourselves. It isn't fair. I don't want to be treated any differently than you are." Jack and Fabrizo exchanged looks. How could they explain to her they were only treating her differently because she _was_ different? It wasn't just that she had grown up wealthy and had no real idea of what it felt like to go hungry or wonder when or even if her next meal might come. She wasn't just inexperienced. She was an inexperienced woman.

"What?" she said. "There's something you're not saying. I can see it in both your faces." Jack and Fabrizo glanced at each other again. _Say something!_ Fabrizo commanded silently. _She's your_ _wife_. Jack took a deep breath. "I don't want this to come out wrong," he said. "It's just that, well, you're not used to going without, and we are and—"

"I can't ever get used to it if you don't let me," she interrupted. "I can't ever learn how to handle anything if you don't let me. I'm not a doll you have to worry about breaking."

"I know you're not. I know how strong you are," Jack said. "It's not that I—we—don't think you can handle it or that you couldn't learn to. It's just…"

"What?"

"You're a woman," he finished lamely.

Rose stared at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means we'd be acting this way even if you'd lived the way we do your whole life. We'd still be treating you better because that's how you're supposed to treat a woman."

She looked from Jack to Fabrizo and then back to Jack. "You both feel this way?" They nodded. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. All her life she'd heard her mother—and just about everyone else—talk about the way men were supposed to treat women, the way gentlemen were supposed to treat ladies, but from what she could tell that mostly just included making decisions for them.

 _"You could almost pass for a gentleman."_

 _"Almost."_

 _There's no "almost". That's what he is—a real one. That's what they both are_. "I don't know what to say," she said, shaking her head. Jack reached over and took her hand. "I don't think you're weak if that's what you're worried about."

"No, it isn't that. I jus—thank you," she said. "Both of you." He cocked his head to one side as he and Fabrizo exchanged puzzled glances. "For what?"

"For everything."

It had been three days since that conversation, and as they lay in bed that afternoon Jack couldn't help but marvel at how well Rose was fitting into his life. Not just with Fabrizo, but with everything. It was as though there had been a hole in his life that he'd never noticed before, and only she could fill it.

Rose brushed a stray hair out of his eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

"You."

"Oh really?"

He nodded. "What are you thinking about?"

"That we need to get up sometime today," she said, stretching her arms out. He rolled over onto his side. "Why?" She gave him a confused look. "What do you mean 'why'? Because that's what you do. You get out of bed. Especially when it's—what time is it anyway?" He shrugged and grinned. "No idea. But I can tell you it doesn't matter."

"How can it not matter?" she asked, her voice thick with disbelief. "There has to be something we're supposed to be doing right now. Somewhere else we're supposed to be."

He kissed her forehead. "There really isn't. We have absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to go. We're not out of money yet, and we have food so there's no reason for us to go anywhere. Unless we want to," he added. He nuzzled her neck. "I don't know about you, but I'd much rather stay here." _While we can_ , he added silently. The few dollars he had would run out eventually, and when that happened he would have to find a way to get more. They also hadn't decided how long they were staying in New York. Jack hadn't said anything, but he was mostly against the idea of staying much longer. He didn't want to drift around aimlessly with Rose because he knew it could be dangerous for her, but he also knew living in a New York slum would be just as bad, if not worse. And for the moment, as much as he hated it, that was all he could give her if they stayed there.

"I can't imagine why," she said, a small smile slipping out. "There's nothing exciting to do." Jack sighed and shook his head. "We'll just have to figure something out, won't we?" Rose nodded and pulled him in for a kiss. "I trust you can come up with something."

….

Jack smiled over at Rose as he buttoned his shirt. She was sleeping soundly, one arm draped across the space where his body had lain. The bed covers had slid down to her hips, exposing her nude upper body. He carefully pulled them back up. "It's not warm enough for that," he whispered, kissing her curls. "But I'll take you someplace where it is—someplace much nicer than here. I promise." He took a sheet of paper out of his portfolio and scribbled a quick note to her, writing as lightly as he could so it would be easy to erase later. Blank sheets of paper cost more than he cared to spend on them. Rose had been urging him to sell some of her jewelry, but so far he'd refused.

"They'll just think I stole it," he said bitterly.

"So what? You didn't. All they can do is think," she replied. "Please, just take it. That's what I brought it for."

"What if somehow Cal or your mother can use it to find us?"

She'd gotten quiet after that. Although there had been no sign they were even looking for them, the threat still loomed like a black storm cloud that could burst at any moment. Although Jack didn't think it was likely they could figure out where they were even if they did somehow discover where they had sold her jewelry, his feelings about gambling had begun to change.

 _"When you've got nothin, you've got nothin to lose."_

 _I have something now. Something I'll be damned before I lose._

He doubted there was anything they could do since he and Rose were legally married. _But that bastard's rich and he's mean. He could still make our life hell if he felt like it. He'd barely have to lift a finger to do it._

He was deep in thought when he stepped outside and started down the building's front steps. Fabrizo sat at the bottom, a bottle of beer in hand. Next to his feet was a second bottle. "How'd you know I was coming?" Jack asked, breaking into a grin. Fabrizo tapped the side of his head. "Sixth sense," he said. He handed Jack the second bottle as he sat down beside him. "Where's Rose?"

"Sleeping."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in his own thoughts. "Do you wanna leave New York?" Jack asked finally.

"What? Leave?"

"Yeah, leave. Tomorrow or the next day maybe."

Fabrizo raised an eyebrow. "So soon?" They had always moved on quickly, but somehow it seemed as though Jack had suggested leaving much faster than he usually did. He was always itching to head out again, to discover something new, but Fabrizo sensed his suggestion that they leave was motivated by more than wanderlust.

"I know we haven't been here long, but I really want to take Rose somewhere better." Jack took a swig of his beer. It was still cold, and despite the slight chill in the air it felt good going down. "You know what I mean?"

Fabrizo nodded. He knew exactly what Jack meant. He'd seen the streets Jack had tried to keep them away from, the ones he didn't want Rose anywhere near. They were in one of the poorer parts of the city, but there were far worse places. He knew Jack was afraid they might end up somewhere worse if they stayed much longer. "It's nowhere to raise a family," he said. He wasn't surprised when Jack calmly agreed with him. In the year they'd spent together they'd had many talks, and most of them eventually settled on Jack's wish for a family of his own someday.

"It isn't that I don't want to keep traveling," Jack explained, "because I do. I know I said things wouldn't really change, but I guess some things'll have to. I mean, it's like you said, you can't sleep on the streets with a wife." He took another drink. "I know some people do, but I can't. I won't. I didn't take her away from a bad life just to throw her into an even worse one, but nothing between you and me is gonna change." He looked at his hands. His thumb was tracing the mouth of the beer bottle. "You're still my best friend. I don't want you to think that just because I married Rose I feel any differently about you or somethin, and I want you to come with us when we go. If you want to," he added. "I understand if you don't."

They had never actually said out loud how they felt or what they meant to each other. It wasn't just that they were men and therefore all but forbidden to express any emotion more complex than anger. There had never been a reason to talk about it before. Their bond was such that it didn't require verbalizing.

"I'd like it," Fabrizo said. "To go with you, I mean. But I don't want to be in the way, to get between you and-"

"You won't," Jack assured him. "She likes you a lot, you know."

"She does?"

Jack nodded. "She's never really been allowed to be friends with a man before so if it seems like she's having trouble expressing it, that's why. It's new to her. All of this is really."

"She made me eat," Fabrizo said with a chuckle. "I wasn't expecting that."

"She's not what anyone expects," Jack said thoughtfully. "It's part of what I love about her."

"I heard the things they were saying about her and about you," Fabrizo said. "But I want you to know-" Jack waved away the rest of the comment. "It doesn't matter. We'll never see any of those people again."

Meanwhile, across town, two of New York's finest were beginning to wish they had pursued other career interests. Cal was gesturing wildly as he spoke, his dark eyes wide and burning with fury. "I want you to find her, do you understand?" he bellowed. "And I don't want it to take weeks either. You have their names. You have her photograph, and you have a description of him. They shouldn't be that difficult to track down."

"Yes Mr. Hockley, we understand all that," Michael Smith said. He and his partner, Paul Wesson exchanged glances. "But we need you to understand that it might not be as easy as you'd like it to be. Just because-"

"Easy?" Cal hissed. "You want to talk about easy? Do you think it's been easy for either Mrs. Dewitt-Bukator or myself these past few days?" He gestured toward Ruth, who sat behind him and off to the side a little. At the mention of her name she straightened her back and did her best to look devastated "Her daughter, my beloved fiancee-" Lovejoy, who stood in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, rolled his eyes. Paul noticed, but didn't let on that he'd seen it. "-is out there somewhere-" He pointed dramatically at the window. "-dragged off against her will by a filthy, lecherous-" Lovejoy snorted when Cal said "against her will." Paul stared at him. _Did he really just do that? And didn't he roll his eyes a minute ago?_ He was too busy puzzling over Lovejoy's behavior to hear the rest of Cal's rant.

"Yes, yes, we understand," Michael said, taking great pains to keep his voice calm. "We'll do everything we can. We assure you." He stood up and motioned for Paul to follow. "We'll be in touch when we know something."

"Yes, you will be," Cal snapped.

Paul gave Lovejoy one last look as he followed Michael out the door. "Did you notice anything odd?" he asked once they were safely in the elevator. "You mean besides the guy screaming at us?"

"Not him. I meant the other guy, the whatcha call it—the valet." He snapped his fingers. "That's what he was."

"The guy in the corner? The one who didn't say anything really?" Though how anyone could have gotten a word in with Cal going was something Michael didn't know. He'd never heard anyone work themselves into such a frenzy before.

Paul nodded. "Yeah, him. Did you notice when he rolled his eyes? Or when he snorted that time?"

"He did that? I never saw it."

"It was near the end, when his boss was mentioning that girl. He rolled his eyes when he said she was his 'beloved fiancee' and then he snorted when he said she was 'dragged off against her will'. I thought it was odd. It was as though he didn't take any of it seriously."

Michael shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't. He probably doesn't give a damn about any of them. He's only there because they pay him to be."

"Maybe you're right," Paul said. But as they began their search for Jack and Rose, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there wasn't more to the story. He didn't know why or even what it could be, but he kept wondering all the same.

….

After spending the afternoon going around from one cheap rooming house and hotel to another asking if there was anyone there under Jack's name and flashing around the photograph of Rose, Michael and Paul each went home for the day, confident they would wrap the whole thing up the next morning, but they seriously overestimated the size of New York. A person could easily disappear forever in the crowd if they wanted to, and this was the problem they found themselves facing two days later. They'd been all over the poorer neighborhoods, and there was no sign of their quarry.

"Are we even close to having gone through all the places they could be?" Paul asked as they stepped out of yet another run-down dead end. Michael shook his head. "We've got hundreds of blocks to cover still."

"There has to be an easier way to do this."

"I am open to any suggestions you may have," Michael said mildly. "But I don't think you'll be able to come up with any."

"Something did occur to me though," Paul said as they began trudging to their next destination.

"Yeah? What was it? That these people really should have taken care of this while they were still on a ship. You know, when there were only so many places she could be?" Michael said, making no effort to hide his frustration.

"There is that, but I was thinking of something else. Does it seem at all weird to you that if this guy kidnaped this girl-"

"'Dragged her off against her will' you mean," Michael interjected. "As we are constantly reminded."

"Exactly. If that's what happened, why is her fiance so convinced he's still in the city? Or that he's using his own name? I mean, doesn't that just seem completely stupid to you? Why would someone commit a crime, and then not make any effort to hide the fact that they did it? Okay, sure they said he's hoping to get money out of this, but it still doesn't make sense. None of this does," he added.

"It is a bit strange," Michael admitted. "Why wait a week after the fact to report it?"

"I don't get that either. If they're really so afraid something's going to happen to her, why didn't they have him arrested on the ship like you said? Or arrange from us to pick him up as he was getting off?"

Michael shrugged. "Rich people are weird. That's all I know to say."

"No," Paul said pensively. "I think there's more to it than that."

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Can you handle taking the next few alone?"

"Sure. Where are you going?"

"To check something out. It's probably nothing, but I just need to check."

Had they bothered to check more than just possible lodgings, there is a good chance they would have found them fairly quickly. Jack and Rose, and often Fabrizo, made no effort to hide. Ashamed of herself for giving in to the urge to spend the entire day in bed, Rose insisted they get out and do something with their time. She didn't much care what as long as it was a public activity. Jack complied with her wishes, though he didn't completely understand what motivated them. It was on a seemingly endless ramble the next day that he decided to finally bring up the subject that had been weighing on his mind for what seemed like forever.

"Since we're alone," he said, "there's somethin I wanna ask you."

Rose was puzzled. "There is?"

"Yeah. How would you feel about leaving? New York, I mean?"

"Where would we go?"

"Anywhere," he said with a shrug. "Wherever you want."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "I could decide where we go? You—you'd let me?"

He stared at her, disbelief shining in his eyes. "Of course. Don't you remember what I promised you when we got married? I meant it. That's what we're gonna do. Since I've had the last five years to do pretty much whatever I want, it's only fair that you get to choose what we do now."

"Oh, Jack, I wouldn't even know how or where to begin." Her expression grew serious. "We don't have the money for something like that."

"Hey, you let me worry about that. Getting across the world on next to nothing is what I'm best at."

"I thought drawing was what you were best at," she said with a grin.

"I'm not bad." As he said it he realized how much he missed drawing. He'd never gone so long before without doing it. No matter where he was or what was going on around him he'd always found a way to draw, but for going on two weeks he'd barely thought about it at all. So much had been happening.

"I wish I could see you draw," she said, interrupting his thoughts.

"You do?" Surprise filled his voice.

She nodded. "I've wanted to see you draw since I found out how gifted you are. I even had a dream about you drawing me," she added shyly.

Her words left him tingling all over. _She thinks I'm gifted_. Not since the last time his father said it had he heard anyone describe him that way. "You really mean that?" You'd want me to draw you? You'd really let me? He'd secretly wished he could a few times, but he'd been too afraid to bring it up.

"Of course I do. Jack, don't you think so?"

He shrugged. "Like I said, they just pour outta me. I never thought about why or how. It's just what I do."

She shook her head slowly. "You can see so much yet you can't seem to see yourself. You can't see how amazing you are." He stopped, not caring about the inconvenience they might be causing their fellow pedestrians, and pulled her close. "Just hearing you say that," he said softly, "is better than anything I could have ever imagined." She smiled up at him. "It's just the truth, Jack."

He wished he could explain to her why it meant so much that she believed in him, but he knew it was the sort of thing that just couldn't be put into words. He'd lived with the world's scorn for most of his life. The backhanded compliments from people like Cal. The revulsion in the eyes of people like Rose's mother. He had never deluded himself about the way the world worked. He'd seen his father be treated the same way. He'd seen the shadow that came into his eyes, the shadow that he always pushed away. As he got older Jack was sure he was bothered by it all, but he never once let on in any real way. At least, not to him. "Money isn't everything," he told him, almost every day it seemed, "It really isn't. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try to get some." He'd always chuckled on the last part, and Jack had never been sure if he was being serious or not.

Until he met Rose he hadn't given much thought to how the world saw him. So what if people he'd never met made an art of looking down their noses at him? "Where would they be without me?" he'd ask himself. "If I wasn't on the bottom there's no way they could be on the top." It was a strangely comforting thought. When looked at that way his lowly status took on a new importance. But it had all changed when Rose came into his life. Suddenly he was all too aware of the opinions of others. The disdain in the eyes of his "betters" burned through him in a way it never had before. You have nothing, they seemed to be saying. Therefore you are nothing.

But Rose didn't think that. Rose thought he was gifted. And kind and beautiful and amazing. The part of him that had been socialized as a "man" had briefly considered questioning her assessment of him as "beautiful", but in his heart he understood exactly what she meant when she said it _. She called me the best thing that had ever happened to her._

He slid his thumb over her lower lip. "I hope I never disappoint you. I'm gonna try so hard not to, Rose, really I am. I just hope I can live up, that I can be the man you see me as." She covered his hand with her own. "You already have."

They silently agreed to set aside the money question for the moment, but when Rose woke up the next morning it was to Jack staring out the window. His mouth was a thin line. His eyes were heavy and clouded.

"Jack?" she said quietly, laying a hand on his arm. He turned to face her, his usual grin in place. "Hey," he said brightly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine. Are you alright?"

"Of course I am. Why would you-"

"It's money, isn't it?"

Her words took him by surprise. _Am I that obvious? Or are we just that connected_? "Yeah," he admitted. What was the use in lying to her? It would just be an insult to her intelligence, and if they were going to have the kind of marriage he wanted them to have he wouldn't be able to keep things like that from her. No matter how deeply he wanted to protect her. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm just trying to figure out how to get us some. We've already stayed here longer than I meant for us to."

"I know you don't want to, but why don't we sell some of my jewelry? It would get us enough to get away from here and to wherever it is we're going next. I don't want you torturing yourself over this," she added softly. "I want you to be happy."

He smiled weakly and pulled her into a tight hug. "I've got you. I'm happier than I've ever been."

And that's how they found themselves walking out of a dingy pawnshop later that afternoon. Jack hadn't wanted to do it. It seemed like everything in him had screamed for him to just be a man and take care of the problem, but deep down he knew that's exactly what he was doing. It just wasn't the way he wanted to do it.

"I'll get you more," he said as they started up the street. She tucked the $300 they had traded one of her necklaces for into the bodice of her dress. "I don't need more," she said simply. "Well, I'm getting you wedding ring at least with some of that," he said firmly. "It isn't right that you don't have one." Just as she was about to reply a man with light brown hair brushed past them. He carried a folder under his arm. "Sorry," he muttered, throwing a glance their way as he hurried along.

 _Wait_. Michael stopped in his tracks. _Was that? No_. He opened the folder and pulled out the photograph of Rose. He looked from it to the woman he'd just passed. "It was." Shoving the photograph back into the folder he began to run after the couple. He'd thank his lucky stars for throwing them into his lap later.

Jack never knew what hit him. One moment he was walking, Rose's hand safely in his, and the next he was up against the building next to them. The brick scratched his cheek as he twisted his head in an attempt to see his attacker. Rose stared in horror as the strange man holding Jack against the wall reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "What are you doing?" she screamed. Jack's blood ran cold as he felt the restraints lock around his wrists. _I really was living in a fantasy. I actually thought something like this wouldn't happen._ "Rose run!" he yelled.

"No!"

He turned to look at her, scraping his face even harder against the rough brick. "Go! Rose, please! Just go get Fabri; he'll take care of you!" Don't stay here! They'll get you if you do. Rose, run, now! He breathed a sigh of relief when she turned and began to run as fast as she could. He knew whatever was about to happen to him wouldn't be good, but at least she was okay.

 **AN: Just a quick historical fact so the end will make more sense for anyone who doesn't know. The Miranda Rights didn't exist yet at that time, so it's very possible that he could have just arrested Jack and dragged him away without ever explaining why.**


	8. Chapter 8

Rose's legs were numb, and her lungs ached. She didn't think she could keep going; she had never run so fast or so long in her entire life. She clenched her fists. _I will keep going. I will. I_ _will._ She didn't know why he'd been arrested, but she was sure Cal was behind it. He just had to be. It didn't make sense otherwise. Jack hadn't actually done anything to be arrested for. After what seemed like an eternity she burst through the front door of the rooming house, nearly knocking it off its hinges. She flew up the stairs completely oblivious to all the puzzled looks she received.

"Fabrizo!" she screamed, pounding her fists on his door. "Fabrizo, I need you!" The door swung open. "Rose!" he cried. "What is it? Where's Jack?" She pointed in the direction of the stairs. Tears streamed down her face. "H—he's—" Her voice broke. Fabrizo moved closer to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. "Breathe," he said soothingly. She covered her face with her hands and began to sob. "J—Jack, he's been—oh God they took him—"

"Bella Rosa," he said, using the nickname he had given her after watching Jack stare at her from the third class deck. Neither of them had known her name—at that point she was still an untouchable goddess they would never even see up close—yet when Jack told him her name actually was Rose the title he'd jokingly made up for her had stuck. Privately, at least. Too upset to fully process that he had called her by anything other than her name, Rose just nodded. "Please, you have to breathe," he said slowly. "Tell me what happened. Who has Jack?"

She took a deep breath. "The police," she said shakily.

 _Waldorf-Astoria Hotel_

"Yes, this is he. You did? Are you sure? I understand. Yes, I'll be right down."

Cal hung up the telephone with a dramatic flourish. He whirled around grinning triumphantly. Lovejoy was slumped on the couch, the morning paper spread across his lap. "I'm assuming that was good news," he said flatly.

"Indeed," Cal said brightly.

"So I guess that means they found him?" Lovejoy asked. He turned to the next page in the newspaper. "I must say they did a much better job than I thought they would."

"As a matter of fact, they did catch the little rat. Or at least, they think they have. I'm supposed to come down there and identify him." Cal's smile wavered. What if it was a mistake? _What if the detectives had grabbed the wrong man? After all, how many blonde men are there in this city? Hundreds?_ He pushed the doubts away. It was him. He could feel it in the way his skin had started tingling the moment the telephone rang.

Lovejoy folded the paper and laid it aside. "Did they say anything about her?"

"Her?" Cal said dumbly.

"Yes, her. You do remember her, don't you? Redhead, quite striking? The whole reason we got into this mess in the first place?"

"Of course I remember her!" Cal snapped. "And no, they didn't say anything about her." His mouth thinned.

"Well, I'm sure there's a good reason why they didn't," Lovejoy said. "After all," he added, "it isn't as though he would have realized what was happening and made sure she was safely hidden before you could show up."

Cal closed his eyes. At the base of his skull he could feel the first stirrings of a migraine.

Meanwhile, Rose was once again running through the streets of New York, but this time Fabrizo was at her side. As they darted through the crowd his mind raced. How could this happen? All Fabrizo knew about Cal was the little Jack had told him, and what he'd seen of his handiwork after the fight between the three of them, which had only strengthened his belief that Jack was right to want to get Rose as far away from him as he could. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Cal was somehow behind Jack's arrest _. Is that why he was so anxious to leave? Because he knew something like this might happen?_

When they reached the police station Rose stopped just outside the door. She smoothed her wild curls and wiped the tears from her face. The last thing she needed was for someone to mistake her for a hysterical victim. That wouldn't help Jack at all.

…

"Where's the girl?"

Jack was slumped forward, his head in his still cuffed hands. He grunted in response to Michael's question. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been asked where Rose was.

Michael sighed heavily and tapped the table. From the look of him he'd expected Jack to give in easily. He'd guessed it would take no more than a few minutes before he started talking, but he'd been staring at him across the interrogation room table for over an hour and Jack hadn't said a single word. He'd barely even moved.

"You're only making it worse for yourself," Michael said. "So why don't you just tell me where she is?" Jack didn't respond. "I know you know," Michael continued. "You told her to run. You told her to go to find someone. Why? Surely you can't think you can still get anything out of this."

Jack raised his head slightly. "The only thing I want is for her to be safe and happy, and there's no chance of that if they know where she is," he said quietly. "So you can ask all you want, but I'll never tell you." His chin trembled slightly, but he clenched his jaw. "Even if it means I never get to see her again."

"What're you—" was all Michael managed to say before the door flew open and in stepped a man who looked around Jack's age. His hair, though darker, even resembled Jack's slightly. "Come quick!" he cried, eyes wide. Michael pushed his chair back and jumped to his feet. "What is it?" The young man gestured impatiently toward the door. "There's no time, just come!" Michael gave Jack a pointed look. "Perhaps while I'm gone you'll come to your senses." Jack just smiled bitterly in response. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes as Michael hurried from the room.

 _Oh, Rose please be okay._

"Jack!"

His head snapped up as Rose flew through the door. "Jack!" she cried again, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, Jack." She kissed him frantically. "Are you alright?" He winced when her lips fell on his scraped cheek. She didn't bother pausing to let him answer. "I'm sorry," she cried, pressing his head against her neck. "I'm so sorry. Jack, I should have stayed. I should've tried to help you. I—"

Jack raised his head. "No! You did the right thing. Rose, who knows what coulda happened to you if you hadn't listened to me." His eyes widened. "You shouldn't be here!" He tried move away, but her body pinned him into the chair. She gazed at him with hurt and confused eyes. "It's not safe for you," he explained. "They're looking for you."

"Why would they be looking for me? And why do they have you?"

"No-one told you?"

She shook her head. "I kept asking. I—I asked anyone I could find, but no-one would tell me anything. Fabrizo tried, but they wouldn't tell him anything either."

"He's here too?" _Fabri why didn't you keep her away?_ But he knew it wasn't Fabrizo's fault. Even if he had tried to stop Rose there was no way he could have. Jack took a deep breath. "Where is he?"

"He's watching the door."

It was almost comical. Here he was, arrested for abducting his own wife, who had somehow found a way to get to him in jail and his best friend was helping. He would have to remember to thank him later. Jack took her face in his hands, silently cursing the handcuffs that kept him from holding her. "Rose, listen to me. You—both of you—have to get away from here. You need to be as far away from me as you can. If you don't—"

Rose stared at him. "Jack, what are you saying? No! I'm not leaving you!" She stood up and took a step back. "I'm not even leaving this room! No!" He stood up and held out his hands. "Rose, please, just listen to me. It was no accident that I got arrested today."

"Cal did it, didn't he?" she asked softly. Her eyes took on a faraway look. "I should have known. He did the same thing in my dream…just after the iceberg hit…"

 _"He couldn't have! I was with him the whole time. This is absurd."_

 _"Perhaps he did it while you were putting your clothes back on, dear."_

"Yeah, it was him," Jack said. "Him and your mother."

"My mother?" Her voice rose. "How could she do this to me? How could she—No." Rose shook her head. "It isn't the time for that. It's not even important right now." She looked into Jack's eyes. "You are what's important right now."

His heart swelled with love for her. He took her hands. "Rose, please, you have to go. They're saying I made you come with me. They're saying I manipulated you somehow, that I did it to get money. He's had the police searching for us for days, and if they find you they're gonna take you back to him."

Rose couldn't believe her ears. "How can they believe that? But we're married!"

"Rose honey, I know that. I just hope they'll figure it out eventually, and then his story will fall apart. But until then I need you—"

"Here. You need me here."

Meanwhile, just outside the interrogation room Fabrizo was encountering difficulties of his own. The first few people who passed by contented themselves with questioning looks, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief as each on went about their business. But his luck didn't hold for long, and he found himself explaining "Just what he was doing lurking about?" to a very frustrated and confused Michael who had just discovered the emergency phone call he'd been summoned to was from his wife. Who didn't exist. At a loss to explain it he settled for yelling at the new recruit who had fetched him before hurrying back to take another shot at getting Jack to talk.

"Well?" Michael crossed his arms over his chest. "I asked you a question."

Fabrizo looked from the door to Michael _. Jack, Rose, I'm sorry_. Getting arrested himself wouldn't do any of them any good. Knowing it was his best bet for avoiding that he put on the best befuddled look he could and thickened his accent. "I'm lost."

"Of course you are," Michael said, annoyed. "And I'll bet those are the only words of English you know." Fabrizo swallowed his anger. "Si."

Michael was about to escort Fabrizo out of the building when Paul came running up, a sheet of paper in hand. "Where've you been?" Michael said immediately forgetting all about Fabrizo, who slipped off to the side. He had no intention of abandoning his friends if he could help it. "I told you I had to check something out," Paul answered. Michael crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, while you were doing that I was arresting that guy—"

Paul's eyes widened. "You found them?"

"Him," Michael corrected. "I found him. She ran. I've been trying to get it outta him for an hour now, but so far all he's done is babble about how he wants her to be happy."

"That makes sense considering what I just found out. So, you remember how we couldn't understand why Hockley didn't do something about all of this on the ship?"

Michael nodded. "Yes, and I thought we decided it was because he's rich and weird."

Paul rolled his eyes. "No, you decided that. Anyway, something just didn't seem right about all of this, the way they waited so long to report it, the way his valet acted when he was talking about it, just so many things didn't fit. So, I made some calls, and after talking with an Officer Walters I now understand everything," he said triumphantly. "Something did happen on that ship. And according to this Walters fellow it didn't end well for Hockley." Michael leaned forward as Paul continued, "Apparently it was all anyone on the ship could talk about after it happened. See, his fiancée did go off with that guy, but not before putting up one helluva a fight when he tried to stop her."

"What?"

"There was some sort of fight between the three of them. Walters was a bit fuzzy on the details. He said by the time he got there the 'blonde one had half killed the dark haired one and the woman was unconscious'. He said that according to her the blonde man was her fiancé, and the other one was her ex-fiancé—which was a pretty recent development, and they were basically just trying to protect themselves."

And that was when Cal walked in, Lovejoy trailing behind. Fabrizo stifled the gasp that rose in his throat. He crept past the detectives and stuck his head into the interrogation room.

"Rose!" he hissed. She and Jack came forward. "What is it Fabri?" Jack asked anxiously. "He's here," Fabrizo whispered anxiously. "Right outside." Rose tightened her grip on Jack. "I'm not leaving you," she said firmly.

"Rose, you have to go," he said pleadingly. "It isn't safe. If he sees you—"

"I don't care!" she cried. "It isn't safe for you either!" She gazed into his eyes. "You jump, I jump." Jack sighed and yet again cursed the shackles that kept him from holding her. "If I'd know how many times you were gonna use that against me I would've never said it," he said, pressing his lips to her hair.

Fabrizo whirled around as Michael snapped. "What are you still doing here?" At a loss for words, he just shrugged. There was really nothing he could do for his friends at that point so he just stepped aside. His movement caused the door to swing open, revealing the embracing couple. Jack and Rose turned to face their audience. "It's okay," he whispered into her hair. He glared at Cal over her head. "I won't let him hurt you." Rose looked up at him. "You're what's important," she insisted. Cal stared at them his mouth twisted with disgust.

Michael's jaw dropped. "How did she—when did she—" he sputtered. Paul laughed and clapped him on the back. "That look like a kidnap victim and her captor to you?" he asked. Michael shook his head. "That's because it's not," Paul said, handing him the sheet of paper. Michael couldn't believe his eyes as he read the words "Marriage Certificate". Behind him Lovejoy began first to chuckle and then finally to laugh out loud. Cal kicking him in the shin did nothing to lessen his amusement.

"That's because they're not," Paul said. "They're married."

Jack couldn't suppress a grin. "Told you they'd figure it out," he said. Rose's arms relaxed around him. "You were right." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "I should have known you would be."

"What do you mean they're married?" Cal bellowed. "He wouldn't marry her!" He snatched the paper from Michael. "Let me see that." Jack's hands twitched. _If I could use them_. Sensing his anger Rose tilted his head down so their forehead met. "Ignore it," she whispered. "It doesn't matter. What he says can't change anything." Jack wished he could explain why Cal's words bothered him so much. He knew she was right. He should just ignore it. After all, what could he really do to them now? The police didn't even seem to be on his side anymore. But the implication that he didn't care enough about Rose to marry her, that he would only stay with her until he grew bored or another woman caught his eye filled him with a rage he never knew he was capable of. _And it isn't just him. It's everyone. No-one understands that I love her. No-one thinks I even could._

"I'm sorry to disappoint you Mr. Hockley, but it's true," Paul said cheerfully. "As I'm sure you've read by now a Rose Dewitt-Bukator married a Jack Dawson on April 15th, 1912. Which, I might add, was a whole week before you reported her alleged abduction." Michael sounded slightly dazed. "So that means I hauled this guy in here for no reason?"

Paul nodded. "I'd say so."

The paper fluttered to the floor as Cal's hands curled into fists. He could only sputter incoherent sentence fragments. Lovejoy wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "Perhaps we'd better go," he said. Cal shot him a death glare. "Whose side are you on?"

"This isn't about taking sides," Lovejoy said calmly. "It's about knowing when to quit."

"He's right," Paul said. "I don't know all the details of what's gone on between the three of you, but I can tell you this part of it is over." He turned to Michael. "Do you have the key on you?" Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver key. "Of course I do." He walked toward Jack and Rose. "Could I ask you to step back?" he said, motioning toward Rose. She nodded and moved about an inch away from Jack. Two sharp clicks later and his hands were free. Michael quickly stepped out of the way as Jack let out a whoop of joy and enveloped Rose in his arms.

It felt like an eternity had passed since the last time he held her. He knew it had actually only been a few hours, but a part of him didn't quite believe that. Then again, a part of him hadn't quite believed he would ever hold her again. He buried his face in her neck. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much. I'm gonna take you so far away." Rose collapsed against him. Jack's arms felt so good around her. _How can they be so blind? Why can't any of them see we're meant for each other?_

"You're just going to let him go?" Cal cried. His tone was a blend of shock and anger. Lovejoy shook his head. _You need to be letting some things go_ , he thought. Lovejoy didn't like or even really respect Cal, but that didn't mean he wanted to see Jack and Rose happily skip off into the sunset. The truth was, he didn't care one way or the other what happened to them. Either Cal married her or he didn't. Either the plan to have Jack incarcerated for the majority of his life worked or it didn't. It meant nothing to him. Though Michael's assessment of him had been pretty much on the mark—he was only there because he was paid to be—he couldn't help but find Cal's failure and frustration where Rose was concerned highly entertaining. But even so he didn't feel like dealing with the scene Cal would cause if his emotions were allowed to go unchecked.

"You really might want to think about just walking away now," he said giving Cal a meaningful look. "It would be the best thing." Cal stared at him, disbelief filling his dark eyes. "Walk away?" he said quietly. "That's your answer?"

Lovejoy sighed. "Yes, that's my answer."

"It's a good answer," Michael said. "There really isn't anything else you can do. Not legally, anyway." Paul shot him a look. "And there is a chance it wasn't legal when you reported Mrs. Dawson here-" Cal's mouth curled in disgust. Lovejoy chuckled quietly. Fabrizo, forgotten by them all, smiled to himself. Rose kissed Jack. "-kidnapped," Paul said, acting as though he didn't notice what any of them were doing. "Though of course, we'd have to prove you knew she had gone off willingly with the intention of marrying this man." He met Cal's eyes. "And I'm sure you don't want to deal with the mess we'd make trying to do that."

Cal swallowed the first reply that sprang to his lips. "Of course not," he said smoothly. "It was a mistake."

Rose took Jack's hand, lacing her fingers through his. "Let's go," she said. The mini-crowed parted as they began to make their way toward the door. "C'mon Fabrizo," Jack called. "Coming," Fabrizo said brightly, hurrying over to them. Michael shook his head. "That's why he was hanging around," he murmured to himself. Cal's glared burned into them as they passed. Jack tightened his grip on Rose's hand and met his glare with one of his own. He didn't think Cal would try anything with so many people around, especially cops, but that didn't lessen his relief that he would have to reach across him to get to Rose.

And suddenly they were outside. Jack squinted, overwhelmed by the sudden brightness. Rose breathed a sigh of relief. "We're finally out of there," she said. Her voice took on an almost giddy quality. "We're finally free!"

Jack smiled down at her. "So where to, miss?"\

….

"What do you mean they let him go?" Ruth asked shrilly. She laid a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. A dull ache was spreading through her head. _Just breathe_ , she told herself. _You're making a scene. You sound like Rose._ Suddenly her daughter's face loomed before her. "Did they at least have the courtesy to find out where Rose is? Did they even care about what he might have done to her?"

Cal smoothed back his already perfect hair and avoided meeting her eyes. "In a way."

"Either they found her or they didn't," she said imperiously. "So which is it?"

"They didn't find her," he said angrily. "She found them." Ruth's headache grew worse as he explained how Rose had somehow managed to get to Jack even after he had been taken into custody and how she had refused to leave his side. "Where is she now then?" She was sure she knew the answer, but asking allowed her to put off facing the truth for a few more seconds.

"I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that."

 _Rose how could you_? Ruth thought as anger threatened to overtake it wasn't the time for that. Becoming emotional would get her nowhere. She took a deep breath and willed herself to remain calm. "She went off with him again," she said, a slight tremor in her voice. "And no-one stopped her? Not even after what you told them?" She was too shocked by the idea of the authorities believing Jack over Cal to even think of wondering why he hadn't done anything himself.

Cal tightened his jaw. "There was nothing anyone could have done. They had to let her go—to let both of them go because—" The words stuck in his throat. He didn't understand how things had gone so wrong. It was the perfect plan, or it would have been if Jack had just behaved the way he was supposed to. "Because they're married," he spat.

"What?" Ruth shrieked. Her expression was a mixture of disgust and horror. "How could they be married? He—he wouldn't marry her!" Ruth's mind raced. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be. "Well, that's what I thought,' he said with a sigh."I can only assume he believed that if he married he would stand to gain financially."

"But she has nothing!" Ruth blurted out. "He can't get anything out of this! Surely she's told him that!" Her face paled as the full implication of what she'd just said sank in. "Without me, that is," she added quickly. "She has nothing on her own." The last thing she wanted was for Cal to know just how dire the situation really was. She was glad to take his money, but only if it was in exchange for Rose. After all, wasn't that the point of marriage? A woman was supposed to find a man to take care of her and anyone else in her family that might need it. It was a perfectly fair trade, even between Cal and Rose. She was beautiful, accomplished, and from a good family. He was wealthy, successful, and from a good family of his own. He was a few years older than her, but that didn't matter. His age would provide him with the maturity to tame her wild nature. She would fulfill all of his wifely needs, and he would keep her comfortable and well-cared for. How could Rose not see that? But she knew the problem wasn't that Rose hadn't seen it. The problem was that Rose hadn't cared.

The rest of the conversation was a blur for Ruth. When Cal finally left she breathed a sigh of relief and poured herself a drink. She turned up the glass and gulped it down. "I knew something like this would happen," she said. "I knew it when I found them." Disgust rose up in her throat as the image washed over her. What she'd actually witnessed paled in comparison to the scene playing out in her mind. She grabbed the bottle of brandy and poured herself another glass.

As Ruth was discovering the joys of drinking oneself into oblivion Jack, Rose, and Fabrizo were hurtling through the night on a train bound for a destination none of them had bothered to discover. "Anywhere," was Rose's answer to Jack's question. "Take me anywhere," she said. Jack wasted no time. They hurried back to the rooming house and gathered their few possessions before heading to the train station where he bought three tickets on the next train leaving the state.


	9. Chapter 9

Rose had traveled by train before, but none of her previous experiences prepared her for that night. The third class car was so crowded she began to feel slightly claustrophobic within minutes. The three of them were squeezed onto a long seat, and she was between Jack and Fabrizo. Standing up or walking around was out of the question. Not only was there nowhere to go, but the second a person left their seat someone else was ready to snatch it. The air was thick with the scent of bodies, some of which hadn't been washed in days, and to make matters worse, the windows didn't open. To help cope with both the smell and the discomfort caused by the hard wooden seats Rose wrapped her arms around Jack's middle and rested her head on his shoulder, pressing her face into his shirt.

Jack and Fabrizo were accustomed to the less than comfortable conditions, and they both found ways to occupy themselves. Fabrizo caught the eye of a pretty blonde girl and the two of them proceeded to flirt silently for the next few hours. Jack propped his portfolio on his knees and began to sketch the people around him. Every few minutes he would glance over at Rose. "You alright?" he'd ask. She would nod and smile each time. "I'm fine. Don't worry," she'd say. "Keep drawing."

Jack could feel her eyes on his hands, and it sent shivers down his spine. Had she been more familiar with his process she would have noticed the faraway look in his eyes had nothing to do with the drawing unfolding in front of them. No matter what he did he couldn't stop images of Rose from flashing before his eyes.

"You know what I really want to draw," he said quietly.

"What?"

He looked down into her face. "You."

"I'd like that," she whispered. "In fact I think I already told you so."

"Yeah, you did. And the second we get off this damn train that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

Rose tilted her head up and kissed his neck. "Let's hope we get to wherever we're going soon then."

They didn't. It was another day and a half before the train finally came to a stop. By then Rose's body was so stiff she could barely stand up. Not only did Jack have to help her to her feet, but he also had to make sure she didn't fall down once they made it off the train and began walking. Her neck hurt from leaning against Jack to sleep. She felt filthy. "Where are we?" she asked.

"Washington, D.C.," Jack said.

Fabrizo's eyes were wide and filled with wonder as they left the train station. The capital of his adopted country was the last place he'd expected to find himself. "It's beautiful here," he said. Jack grinned. "It's nice." Even Rose managed a small smile. "I've always wanted to see it," she said.

"Well, there'll be plenty of time for that later," Jack said. "Right now what we need is a decent meal." As if on cue Rose and Fabrizo's stomachs began to growl. "And a good bed," Fabrizo said. "And a bath," Rose added. Jack laughed. "Which do you want first, my love?" he asked, kissing her hair.

They decided to eat first. They were all starving after two days of paltry train food, most of which Jack hadn't eaten. He'd slipped the majority of his portion into Rose's when she wasn't looking. That she needed it more than he did had been his rationale.

Their stomachs full, they set out in search of lodgings. Luck was on their side, and they quickly found two cheap yet clean rooms. The innkeeper's eyes wandered from Fabrizo to Rose to Jack as he handed them their keys, but he kept whatever thoughts he was having to himself. They were all too exhausted to care either way.

Rose kicked off her shoes the second they were safely in their room. She pulled the pins out of her hair and shook her head. "I've never felt so dirty in my whole life," she said. A knot of guilt formed in Jack's stomach. _He would have never let that happen_. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have warned you about what it would be like. We just left in such a hurry I—"

"Don't be sorry," she said. "It's something I have to get used to." He was amazed by the brightness in her tone. _She really isn't what anyone expects—not even me sometimes._ "Will you help me unbutton this?" she asked, pulling her curls over her shoulder. "I don't think I can stand wearing it another second."

"Sure." It only took his deft fingers a few seconds to undo the small buttons. Rose smiled at him over her shoulder. "Thank you."

"Well, you know what they say. I just like to get you naked," he joked. She stared at him for a moment before she burst out laughing. "I seem to remember seducing you first," she said. Jack grinned "That's what I wanted you to think." She raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, taking on an exaggerated servile tone. "Girls like you don't know the first thing about seduction." Rose turned around and moved toward him, slipping out of her dress as she did so. "Oh really?" she repeated. Her tone made Jack shudder. Her body, clad only in a camisole and bloomers—she had given up wearing corsets, much to both of their delight—was all but pressing against him. "Well, that's what some people say," he said sucking in his breath. "What do you say?" she asked. He gasped as she slid her fingers into the top of his pants. "Well?"

"I thought you wanted a bath?" was all he could get out.

"I do. Will you go with me?"

….

Rose sighed and leaned back against him. "This is the best bath I have ever had," she said. Jack chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. "You know, I wouldn't have fought so hard when my mother wanted me to take a bath when I was a kid if it had been like this." She frowned at the mention of the word "mother". "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said. She twisted her head around and kissed him. "I'm perfect."

"Okay. But if there's something you wanna talk about—"

"There's nothing, Jack," she insisted. "Really." She held up the soap. "It's time to wash that hair." He groaned dramatically. "Do I hafta?"

She nodded. "You have beautiful hair. Let's keep it that way."

"Fine. But only if I can wash you."

"My hair, you mean?"

"That too."

…

Rose stretched her arms out and threw her head back. Her curls whipped from side to side, spraying droplets of water across the room. Jack held his hands up over his face in mock defense. "Didn't we just come from a bath?" he joked. She straightened her neck and looked over at him. "I'm sorry," she said breaking into a self-conscious smile. "I wasn't thinking about you being behind me." Her eyes sparkled, and she held her body with an ease he could only marvel at. The difference in her was astounding. _I knew all she needed was a chance_.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked, resisting the urge to shiver under the intensity of his gaze. She glanced down at herself, suddenly all too conscious of the fact that she was wearing only a green silk robe and that her hair was dripping down her back, forming a small puddle near her feet. "I-I'll get dressed," she said, "if that's—" He placed a finger on her lips. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said softly. "I was just trying to figure somethin out." She gulped for air. "What?"

"How best to draw you."

The small room was furnished with only a bed, chair, and bureau. Its one window had a small space where a person—or two if they didn't mind squeezing together—could sit comfortably and watch the street below. As his eyes moved around the room Jack pictured every possibility, discarding one after another until finally he found the image he wanted. Rose could only watch. Since their first night together on the ship they had made love more times than she dared count, but none of that mattered. He wasn't looking at her through eyes heavy with desire this time but through the clear, skilled eyes of an artist. And for some reason, that made her want him more than ever.

"I've got it," he said finally.

"You do?" She hoped she didn't sound as out of breath as she felt. _You already half seduced him once today! What's wrong with you?_

He nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I guess after you get dressed—" Disappointment filled her voice. "You want me to get dressed?" He fought his jaw's urge to drop. "Um, I thought you'd prefer—" He left the sentence hanging as she shook her head slowly. "The last thing I need," she said, "is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll."

…

Jack's palms were sweating as he removed a small knife from his portfolio and began to sharpen a charcoal pencil. _Calm down. Just breathe. You can do this. You just had a bath with this_ _woman—hell, you're married to her! It's not like you haven't seen her naked._ But his attempts to soothe his rattled nerves failed miserably. In Paris he'd been able to draw dozens of nude women without being affected at all. It wasn't that he hadn't seen their bodies. It was just he saw each of them purely in artistic terms. What had fascinated him was how different lighting accentuated different features; the way the color of their skin, of their hair changed depending on where he drew them. He'd been too concerned with how different poses revealed different things about their inner selves to even begin thinking about them sexually _. Just look at Rose that way. Aren't_ _you supposed to be a professional?_ "Okay," he said. "I'm ready if you are." Rose took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

The dream was nothing compared to the reality. It was all she could do to remain still as Jack's eyes moved across her body like a pair of agile hands _. Like his hands_ , she thought. _Stop that!_ "Relax your face," Jack said quietly. "Just look at me."

She nodded. "Sorry."

He offered her a small smile. "It's okay."

Jack truly was a skilled professional, and despite his fears all thought faded from his mind after he began to draw. Nothing existed but the paper and the image he was creating on it. His concentration seemed unbreakable until he reached her breasts and a blush began to creep along his cheeks. _You've seen them before. You've—no, best not to go there._

"I do believe you are blushing Mr. Big Artiste," Rose teased, pronouncing the last words with a French accent. "I can't imagine Monsieur Monet blushing."

Jack resisted the urge to grin. "He does landscapes."

Rose breathed a sigh of relief when he finally looked up from the paper and said, "Done." She leapt off the bed and grabbed her robe. Slipping it on, she peered at the drawing over his shoulder. "Jack, it's beautiful." Her words left him tingling all over. "You really think so?" he asked, turning to look at her. "It's perfect," she said leaning in to kiss him. "Thank you."

"There's something I need to do," he said when they finally broke apart. "You mind waiting here? It's a surprise," he added. She smiled and kissed him again. "I don't mind."

A heavy wind was blowing when Jack stepped outside. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up, relishing the way the cool air felt against his skin. "I drew Rose," he said, laughing. "I drew Rose."

….

For the first time in her life Rose didn't want to get dressed. Though her clothes had always been heavy and binding, and many of her dresses resembled beautiful cloth puzzles more than anything else it had never occurred to her to do anything other than wear them. What other options were there? But as she reached into her suitcase and pulled out a fresh dress she realized the last thing she wanted to do was put it on. She shook her head. "There really must be something wrong with me. It's all the changes," she decided. "I'm just reacting to everything that's been happening." She eyed the dress for a moment before refolding and setting it aside. "I'll just choose another." Ten minutes later she reached the bottom of her suitcase. Dresses littered the floor around her feet; her efforts to keep them neatly folded had ended with the third one. She placed her hands on her hips and sighed.

Rose had always dressed as quickly as possible after getting up in the morning. After a bath she would tie her robe tightly—sometimes she would even hold it together at the throat—and hurry from the bathroom to her bedroom where a dress would be waiting for her. Nudity was shameful, as her mother never ceased to remind her, and she had to be vigilant. A beautiful young woman like herself would have no end of would-be seducers. If she didn't have the proper modesty—

But she didn't feel modest anymore. "I don't feel immodest either, though," she mused. It didn't make sense. Didn't she have to be one or the other? Wasn't she either a "lady" or a "loose woman", as her mother and her friends always said in appropriately hushed tones? "Jack thinks I'm a lady, though I haven't been acting like one." She blushed as she remembered the way his eyes had felt on her. The way she had behaved that morning alone was beyond scandalous. Respectable married women most certainly did not carry on as though they desired their husband's attentions, but then again hadn't she always been told that no respectable woman ever really wanted her husband's attentions? "But I want Jack." It didn't fit. What was she then?

Rose fingered her robe. The silk was cool against her hand. Her cheeks burned as she realized she liked the way it felt on her body. She liked the way she felt when Jack looked at her, whether it was with an artist's eyes or a lover's. People never seemed to tire of telling her how beautiful she was, but she'd always dismissed their compliments as so much empty flattery. She didn't think she was unattractive; she just didn't understand what all the fuss was about. She had seen the lust in Cal's eyes each time he looked at her—well hidden though it was—and it had baffled her. But when Jack looked at her…

"I feel beautiful," she said softly. "I feel as though there are no limits to what I can do."

And that's how she came to be sitting in the window seat, still clad only in her robe, when Jack turned the corner and started up the street. Rose smiled when she saw him. His hair blew in the wind, but he didn't seem to mind. When he reached the front steps of the rooming house he stopped and finished off a cigarette before going inside.

His eyes lit up when he stepped through their door. "I wasn't gone too long was I?" She shook her head and stood up. She held out her hands. "Come here." Jack gave her a curious look but did as she asked. "You alright? You never got dressed," he said, taking her hands in his. She nodded. Her expression was unreadable. "I just wanted to tell you something," she said. He nodded for her to continue. "I didn't get dressed because I didn't want to."

"Okay." He wasn't sure what to make of her statement.

"I know how strange that sounds," she continued, "but it was the first time I'd ever felt that way before." A nervous smile spread across her face. "I'd always been too, ashamed, I suppose you could say, but—" She fumbled for the right words. Jack laced his fingers through hers. "Are you saying you don't feel that way anymore? Ashamed, I mean?" Relief washed over her as she nodded. Jack grinned. "I'm glad," he said. "I wish you'd never felt that way, but I'm glad you don't anymore."

"Where did you go?" she asked suddenly. Jack released her hands and reached into his pocket. "To get you something," he said. Rose sucked in her breath as he pulled out a small box. "You didn't!" she exclaimed. His hands trembled as he opened the box. "I said I was gonna."

Jack held his breath as he waited for her reaction. _She hates it. That's why she's not sayin_ _anything. She's looking for a nice way to tell you_.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. "Jack, it's perfect."

His heart soared. "You really mean that?" He looked down at the ring. It was silver with a small sapphire in the middle. It didn't even begin to compare to the one she'd had before. "I mean it," she said. She held out her left hand. "I love it."

Rose smiled down at her hand. The ring looked right on her finger in a way Cal's never had. Her glance shifted to Jack's hand which rested beneath her own. "Why don't you have one?" she asked, twisting her head around to look at him. They were squeezed onto the window seat; she was on his lap. "I didn't want to spend the money on me," he said. "I'll get one though," he added as she opened her mouth to reply. "I promise."

"You'd better," she warned mildly. "I want to be able to show you off without having to worry about women trying to steal you away. But then again I'm not sure a ring would be enough to stop them." Jack laughed and kissed her curls. "You don't have anything to worry about. You're the only woman I'll ever want or love." She sighed happily and pulled his arms tighter around her. "I hope not. I don't ever want to be anyone else's wife." She could feel him smile when she said the word "wife".

"You never will be."

…..

After she learned of Jack and Rose's elopement, Ruth decided the best thing to do was quickly and quietly return home. Even if she could find a way to dissolve the marriage it wouldn't make a difference. No matter what she did the story would get out. Cal couldn't be trusted to be discreet about why the engagement ended. Why should he be? It wasn't his reputation that would suffer. A few men might shake their heads and murmur about his inability to keep his fiancee in line, but such comments would most likely never reach his ears. Most of his male peers would sympathize with rather than pity or ridicule him, and their opinion of Rose would plummet. She would be a pariah, a joke, a whore in lady's clothing, and it wouldn't matter what Cal might have done to send her running into the arms of the nearest wide-eyed boy because the rules for a lady—for any woman, really—were just not the same as the rules for a man. Her chances of finding a decent husband would be nonexistent. And although Ruth might indulge in the occasional lie to herself—"She'll eventually learn to be happy. It's just because she hasn't matured yet." being among her favourites—she knew better than to even begin constructing a version of reality in which Cal would still have an interest in marrying Rose. She was a ruined woman now and as such fit only to be a dalliance or, if she was lucky, a well-kept concubine.

Rose wasn't dead, but she may as well have been as far as Ruth was concerned. "The only person you can rely on is yourself," she said with a heavy sigh as she set out on what would most likely be her last journey in first class. "Being married to John should have taught me that." And so she returned home, and had it not been for the few polite lines she left with the manager of the hotel along with instructions for Mr. Hockley not to be informed of her departure until the following morning there was no sign she had ever even left. Except, of course, that Rose was gone.

Ruth spent the train ride back to Philadelphia working out a story to explain away Rose's absence, but when she saw the morning papers she realized her efforts had been wasted. The headlines in the society pages all screamed the same thing: "Debutante Abandons Fiancé to Marry Penniless Artist". It seemed a very unscrupulous gossip columnist had somehow gotten wind of what had happened aboard the Titanic and followed the story as it continued to unfold in New York. The articles even detailed the attempt to have Jack arrested for kidnapping Rose. Ruth had known since the moment Cal told her Rose had gone and married Jack that her days as a woman of high society were over, but she had hoped to at least exit gracefully and with a measure of dignity. "She couldn't even give me that, could she?" Ruth said bitterly.

Meanwhile, a few hundred miles away, Jack, Rose and Fabrizo were sitting down to breakfast in a small cafe when Jack's eyes fell on a newspaper someone had left behind on the table next to them. It was, of course, flipped open to the society pages. His first thought was to pretend he didn't see it, but he quickly realized if he had noticed it Rose and Fabrizo would most likely notice it as well. _And even if she doesn't do you really want to be hiding things from her? Is that the kind of relationship you want to have?_

"Rose, you might wanna look at this," he said. He held up the newspaper as she and Fabrizo turned to face him. "What is it?" she asked. "You remember how you said everyone would be talkin about what happened?" She nodded, a puzzled look on her face. "Well, you were right," he said handing her the paper.

Rose's mouth dropped open as she read the headline. "How can it be in the papers already?" she gasped. "My mother would die before she'd talk about it, and I didn't think Cal would be eager to have the details known either." She quickly scanned the article. "How do they know all of this?"

"How much do they know?" Jack asked.

"Everything. They know everything. They know about what happened on the ship. They know about what happened in New York. They even know who you are."

"How could they know about Jack?" Fabrizo's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Who would they ask?"

Jack shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. I know a few people in New York, but I doubt they'd even remember me. I wasn't there that long, and it's been two years."

Rose sighed heavily and pushed the paper aside. She closed her eyes and laid her head on her hands. Jack scooted closer to her. "Hey," he said softly, putting an arm around her, "It's okay. This can't hurt us, right? And look at it this way, now your mother and Cal can't lie about what happened." She raised her head slightly. "That's true," she said. He cupped one side of her face with his free hand as she continued, "Now no matter what they say about me, in their back of their minds everyone will know what an unimaginable bastard he really is." He pulled her closer. "Exactly." She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest. "I'm sorry I've done all of this to you."

"You didn't do anything to me," he said firmly. "Besides complete my life."

Fabrizo whistled and shook his head. "What?" Jack asked not taking his eyes off Rose. "They really do know everythin about you," he said. "They know you're an artist, a wanderer. They even know where you grew up." Jack clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on Rose. What right had these people to go digging into his life? Or hers, for that matter? _If I had money this would've never happened, he thought angrily. If I had money and she left him for me no-one would have given a damn_. He was wrong, but he never would have believed that. Sensing his thoughts Rose raised her head. "Don't go there," she said. He avoided her eyes. "Jack. Look at me." Reluctantly he did so. "Please don't go there. Don't think like that," she begged. "You'll only torture yourself if you do."

As Fabrizo watched the, he couldn't help but marvel at how connected they were. Rose hadn't even been looking at Jack's face and she'd known exactly what was going through his head _. I_ _hope I have that one day_ , he thought. _Even if I have to go through everything they have to get it_.

Jack pressed his forehead to Rose's. "I can't help it sometimes," he said. "I know I shouldn't...I know it doesn't matter, but..." She kissed him. "I know how you feel," she whispered, "I feel the same way sometimes, but we can't let it get to us. We can't let what the world says about us or what they do keep us from being happy. I love you, and that's all that matters."

"I love you too." He kissed her. "I love you so much."

The coverage of what one paper dubbed "The Dawson Affair" didn't end there. For the next few weeks it seemed as though a day didn't go by without a new article appearing. Neither Cal nor Ruth ever officially commented on the story, but plenty of other people did. There was no shortage of head shaking and hand wringing about Rose's poor mother and "what she must be feeling" with "a daugther like that". There was also plenty of "How could she do that to a good man like Cal?" which made Jack sick every time he saw it. "How can they be so blind?" he spat one morning as he sat on their bed and read one woman's comments about what a "travesty" the whole situation was. "They know he deliberately set me up, and yet they're still taking his side!" Rose wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and kissed his cheek. "They see what he wants them to see," she said. "And what they themselves want to see. They couldn't acknowledge what he did and still be able to look at him every day."

"I understand that," Jack said. "I understand that they're all part of this club and so why would anyone care about my side in all of this, but why doesn't at least one of them say something about how _you_ might be feeling? Why hasn't at least one of these stories mentioned that? After all, you were part of the same club until you married me."

"Because I married you. I chose to give up a supposedly good life for a life with you," she said simply.

"And not one of them can understand why you'd ever do that. They can't possibly understand how or why being with me would make you happy. Because of the money," he added bitterly. "You have to be an empty headed whore who doesn't care about anyone but herself to have chosen me over him."

The anger and bitterness in his voice cut through her like a knife. _How dare they do this to him!_ _How dare they hurt him like this_! Rose sat down next to him and took his face in her hands. "Jack, listen to me. I don't care what they say about me or about you. I wish I could make them all shut up, but I can't. I wish I could make the world see what a wonderful, caring, gifted, beautiful person you are because I know if they could see what I see when I look at you they'd love you as much as I do. But the world doesn't work that way. It's wrong, and it's unfair." Tears sprang into her eyes. "And I hate seeing what it does to you."

Seeing Rose cry made Jack's heart feel as though it were being ripped out. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. "Don't you worry about what it does to me. I'll survive. It's you, it's all the horrible things they're sayin about you that I can't stand."

"I'll survive too," she said. "If you can take it so can I."

"Now you're rephrasing my words before you throw them back at me."

"It's still true."

They stopped reading newspapers after that. Eventually the story would die, but until then they just wanted to stay as far away from it as possible. Fabrizo didn't know what to make of any of it. He couldn't believe all the attention his friends were receiving. It was as though they had actually committed a crime. He saw the way it was upsetting Jack, but he didn't know what to do or say to try and help besides be prepared to talk if Jack ever decided he wanted to.


	10. Chapter 10

"Do you want to stay here?"

For a moment neither Rose nor Fabrizo was sure what to say. The three of them were sitting on the front steps of their rooming house watching the sunset. Jack and Fabrizo were next to each other, and Rose sat a step below them between Jack's legs. "Don't you both answer at once," Jack joked.

"It was a rather unexpected question," Rose said, tilting her head up to look at him. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I just…well, we've been here for a few weeks now, and if we're gonna stay much longer we should maybe think about getting a more permanent place." He said more permanent but what he really meant was better.

Fabrizo couldn't believe his ears. He knew how deeply Jack wanted to have a home and a family of his own, but even so a part of him had never really expected him to actually settle somewhere—at least, not for a few more years. But then again he never expected Rose to come along either. He had to admit, the thought of settling down appealed to him. Traipsing around Europe had been fun, but he'd begun thinking about the future in the few weeks since they'd landed in America. He wouldn't be young forever—none of them would—and there would come a time when he would need to be settled and established. "I wouldn't mind staying," he said. Jack looked at him. "Really?" Fabrizo nodded. "It's nice here," he said. "Cleaner than New York." "Part of the appeal," Jack said with a grin.

Rose's eyes move from Jack to Fabrizo and then back to Jack. Had she heard correctly? Had he really just suggested they settle there? _A month ago he was tumbleweed blowing in the wind_ , she thought _. When did that change?_

"Rose?"

Jack's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "What?"

"How do you feel about it?" he asked slowly. "Because if you don't—"

"It isn't that," she said. "I just never expected to be asked that question. But I wouldn't mind," she added brightly. "It's nice here." He gave her a searching look. "You can tell me if you don't want to. I won't mind." She smiled and leaned her head against his knee. "I know you wouldn't, Jack." Even though she knew he would pick up in leave in a second if she asked him to, and even though a part of her desperately wanted to do just that, she knew she couldn't disappoint him. It was clear from the hopeful look in his eyes how much establishing a home meant to him.

"Well, I guess it's settled then," Jack said happily. He kissed the top of Rose's head. "And I guess I'll have to go find a job tomorrow." Rose was glad he couldn't see her expression. _A job? What_? She had always known Jack would have to eventually find a way to support them, and he'd been hinting it would be necessary sooner rather than later. Her insistences that the three of them could live fine with just the money from the rest of her jewelry fell on deaf ears. "I'm not doing that," he had said firmly. "That's now how I want to take care of you. Besides, what if something happened and we needed that money?" She was forced to concede that he had a point. It wasn't that she didn't want him to work, but what would she do all day without him? Would she find a job of her own? Was that something he would object to? Would he want her to be home all day keeping house?

Meanwhile in Philadelphia, Ruth was experiencing her own personal version of hell. The phone rang so much she was eventually forced to unplug it. The doorbell began to ring after that. Comment seeking journalists and curious friends plagued her at all hours of the day and sometimes even into the night. She ignored them all. She had nothing to say to anyone. Her life was over. Her daughter was the wife of a filthy tramp, and the entire world knew about it. Their family name was disgraced beyond repair. She was destitute and would soon have to begin making arrangements to sell the house and everything in it to pay off her husband's debts. "And then what?" she wondered. "What will I do after that?"

It would take a few weeks at least to make all the arrangements and have everything sold, but as for what would happen next she had no answer. She had calculated that there would be some money left over after the debts were paid, but it would be a paltry sum. She would never be able to live on it. "Eke out a miserable existence perhaps," she said bitterly. "But not live." She silently cursed Jack. He had brought her to this. If he had just left well enough alone.

"Ma'am?"

Ruth tensed. "Yes?" she said curtly.

The maid recoiled slightly. "I'm sorry to disturb you. It's just there's someone at the door."

"Of course there's someone at the door," Ruth snapped. "There's been someone at the door every day for a week now. I told you to ignore it."

"I would have," she said nervously. "It's just this one's insisting you speak with her. She says she's a member of the family."

Ruth's heart skipped a beat. Rose? Had he left her so soon? "Fine. Show her into the sitting room."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ruth smoothed her hair and patted her cheeks, grimacing at the dullness of her complexion. "They've ruined my appearance on top of everything else."

She stopped just outside the sitting room door and took a deep breath. "Graciously toss her back onto the street where she belongs," she said with a toss of her head. "It's no more than she deserves." She pushed open the door and stepped inside expecting to see a miserable, pathetic Rose prostrating herself before her, but instead her eyes fell on a tall, imposing woman who, despite her advanced age, still had the same flaming red hair as Rose. "Oh God no," Ruth murmured. Her tone was hard."What are you doing here?"

The woman stepped forward. "Is that any way to speak to your mother?" She clucked her tongue in disapproval. "The years have done nothing to improve your disposition, have they?" Ruth forced herself to remain calm. Making a scene would just be playing into her hands. "What do you want?' she asked tersely. Charlotte smiled and bent her wrists against her hips. "I just came to see how you are."

Ruth wrinkled her nose in disgust. Her mother's emotional nature had always made her uncomfortable. It had been over a decade since they had stood face to face, and yet here she was, standing there as though she had been invited. _As though I asked her to come. As though I needed_ _her to come. She's just like that boy—can't leave well enough alone_. "Are you quite sure that's all you wanted?"

Charlotte shook her head sadly. "You really haven't changed at all. I was hoping that maybe you had, but clearly I was wrong."

"Keep your composure," Ruth commanded quietly. "Do you want the servants to hear all the sordid details of our lives?"

"My dear child, I would imagine there are very few people right now who don't know most of the sordid details of your life," Charlotte said, not unkindly.

"It's no business of yours," Ruth sputtered angrily. "It's no business of anyone's!" She took a deep breath. Her emotions were getting the best of her. She just couldn't think when her mother was around. She couldn't maintain a semblance of control over herself. "I didn't say it was the rest of the world's business," Charlotte said. Her tone was calm but firm. "But when your hatred of me and your desperation to maintain your lifestyle combines and reaches the point that you're willing to prostitute my only grandchild, well that is my business." Her nostrils flared. "Just how much were you going to put the poor girl through? How much of what I've been reading these past few weeks is true?"

Ruth lifted her chin. "I don't have to explain myself to you. You made it very clear a long time ago that you didn't care what I did or how I ended up. My actions were nothing less than those of a mother concerned for her daughter's future well-being. Not that it brought me anything but shame and ridicule. She still ended up living—oh, I don't even want to know how!" Ruth's hands shook. Everything she had done for Rose, all the sacrifices she had made for her and not one of them had made a bit of difference. When she spoke again it was with forced calmness. "If you care so much, why didn't you offer to help after John died?"

Charlotte sighed. "Would you have taken my help if I had offered it?" She gave Ruth a probing look. "You wouldn't have, and you know it. I could take care of all your debts, take care of both of you, but you'd prefer to marry Rose off to the richest man who comes running—regardless of how she feels about it simply to soothe your pride." She snorted. "Well, I think you should know I intend to find Rose. I'm sure I know how you feel about her—probably the same way you feel about me—but she is my family and I don't intend to let her live in some hovel simply because she had the misfortune of falling in love with the wrong man."

Ruth's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare!" she cried. "You wouldn't dare hand her the life you denied me!" Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. "Ruth, all your father and I ever wanted was for you to appreciate everything you had been blessed with, and you still don't from what I can see. Rose, on the other hand, seems to know what's important in life."

Jack and Rose were of course oblivious to the life-altering course of events that was being set in motion at that very moment. Rose was curled up in the window seat, her cheek pressed against the glass. She appeared to be looking out the window, but her eyes kept drifting over to Jack, who sat cross-legged on their bed, his portfolio propped on his knee. His original intention had been to draw her, but he was too distracted by the tension in the air to make much progress. He knew something was wrong, but he also knew she would just deny it if he asked.

Rose could feel him watching her. She could tell from the silence he wasn't drawing and hadn't been for some time. He was waiting for her to speak. He was waiting for her to tell him what was wrong. "Jack?" She turned her head and met his eyes. "What made you decide you wanted to stay here?"

"What made me decide I wanted to stay anywhere you mean?" he said.

Rose ducked her head. "Am I that obvious?" she said as he squeezed into the small space next to her. He grinned and laid her legs across his lap. "I prefer to think we're just that connected." He lightly ran his fingers over her bare feet. She giggled and grabbed his hands. "Jack!" Holding him still she continued seriously, "I really want to know. What happened to all your talk about blowing in the wind, of being 'on God's good humor'?"

He sighed. "I meant all that when I said it, but things were different then."

"How?" The realization struck her the instant the word left her mouth. "Because you were alone. You didn't have me around," she said softly, lowering her eyes. "Don't say it like that," he said. He laced his fingers through hers. "I want you with me. My life is better with you in it. And I'm gonna give you the best life I can."

"But do you really want to settle down? Will you really be happy like that?"

"Will you? Because if you won't be…" He squeezed her hands. "If you're afraid that we won't do the things I promised we would, don't be. We'll do all of it. I just want us to have a home, someplace safe and warm. I want to know we don't have to worry about where we're gonna sleep every night or how we're gonna eat. And I know we could do fine with just the money from your jewelry, but I want to earn the money to take care of us. You got us this far. Let me do the rest. Please."

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

Of course it is." He looked into her eyes. "Rose, I have been wandering from one place to another for five years. Before I met you I had only made one real friend in all that time. I left my first home because there was nothin there for me. I didn't care about making another because I didn't have any reason to. There was no-one to make it with. I had no family, and for a while I liked it that way. I didn't have to worry about losin anyone else. But I have you now."

"Are you sure we won't just talk about it? We won't always say we'll go out there but never really do it?"

He leaned forward and kissed her softly. "Rose, I promised when I married you, and I meant it."

The next day Jack found a job as a security guard in an art museum. It wasn't an exciting job, but it paid well and he got to spend his days surrounded by his favorite thing. Fabrizo found a job of his own a few days later. His family in Italy had been cheese makers for several generations, and as a child he had been taught the secrets of the trade. He found a position with a small business run by a wealthy young man who wanted to create what he referred to as "authentic" Italian cheeses.

Things seemed to be looking up for the trio. Their fame—or infamy as they all preferred to call it—was dying down. Jack and Fabrizo were both being paid well to do something they loved—or at least in Jack's case to look at something he loved. They moved into a two-bedroom apartment in a neighborhood that while not affluent by any stretch of the imagination was still as safe as their means would allow. Jack wanted to take as few chances as possible since Rose would be home alone most of the day. At first Fabrizo had tried to insist that he find a place of his own, but neither Jack nor Rose would hear of it. Finally Jack's argument of "We'll all live better if you're with us. Two people putting in for the rent'll mean more money" won him over. The apartment they found turned out to be big enough that they weren't always on top of each other, but it was still small compared to what Rose was used to. She didn't complain though. She liked it. It had warmth which was something her old home had always lacked.

"Are you happy?" Jack asked as they settled into bed on their first night. Rose smiled and snuggled closer to him. She wrapped an arm around his middle. "I never knew I could be this happy."

….

It didn't take long for the three of them to settle into a routine. Fabrizo's workday started two hours before Jack's so he had breakfast alone most mornings. He was usually leaving just as Jack and Rose were getting up. His day also ended two hours before Jack's. He tended to make it home around five p.m. while Jack didn't make it home until closer to seven in the evening. Rose didn't like how late Jack worked, but she did like their mornings together. She enjoyed Fabrizo's company, but the two hours in the morning when it was just her and Jack were her favorite time of day. It didn't matter if all they did was sit across from each other and eat toast. It was their time and their silence.

Rose spent her days learning how to keep house. They hadn't discussed what she would spend her time doing, but she decided, for a while at least, that was the best choice. She didn't think Jack would object to her working, but he was so intent on taking care of her, on earning the money to support them, that she didn't want to bring it up. Either way, it was something new and different. She had never realized how much work went into keeping a house clean. She was grateful they only had a small apartment. She didn't know how she would have managed with a house even a third of the size of the one she'd lived in before. "That explains why we always had so many maids," she said to herself after the first time she cleaned the apartment. "I should have thanked them more often." But it only took her a few days to adjust, and once she did she discovered it wasn't as difficult as she'd first thought. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't beyond her capabilities either. Cooking, on the other hand, turned out to more difficult than she ever anticipated.

There was a rhythm to it she just couldn't seem to get. Every meal she tried to make that was more complex than toast somehow turned out wrong. Jack and Fabrizo didn't complain. Not only had they both eaten far worse, but they also didn't want to discourage her. The amount of effort she was putting into her attempts was obvious.

One afternoon about a week after they moved in Fabrizo came home to find Rose leaning against the kitchen counter staring out the small window over the sink. "You okay?" he asked. She nodded and turned around. "I was just thinking." He sat down at the table. "What about?" he asked, moving the chair next to him out for her. "It's stupid really," she said as she sat down. He frowned. "Why would you say that?"

"Because it is. Besides, you don't want to hear my thoughts," she said.

"Why not. We're friends, aren't we?"

"I've never been friends with a man before," Rose said. She rested her chin on her wrists. She lowered her voice to a more confidential tone. "It's not something well brought up girls do you know."

Fabrizo laughed. "Bella Rosa, I won't tell anyone."

"Fabrizo, can I ask you something?" He nodded and motioned for her to continue. "What does that mean? What you call me?"

"Beautiful rose."

"That's what I thought it meant," she said slowly. "Why do you call me that?"

"It's sort of joke I had with Jack on the ship," he explained. "This one afternoon we were out on deck talking with some other people when suddenly Jack started staring up at the first class deck. You probably didn't notice him though."

Rose smiled to herself. "I noticed. But go on."

"Well, we teased him about you, about how he couldn't stop staring and I ended up naming you that. It's what we called you when we talked about you after he met you. Do you mind?"

"I don't mind. It's nice. It's a lot better than what you could have called me," she said with a quiet chuckle. Fabrizo looked almost shocked. "Why would we insult a lady?"

"You didn't know me," she pointed out. "You could have thought anything about me." He waved his hand dismissively. "You should know us better than that by now. Especially Jack," he added. Her smile widened at the mention of Jack's name. "He's wonderful isn't he?" she said.

"I've never met anyone like him before," he said. "But what was bothering you?"

"Oh, it's nothing really. I'm just frustrated because I can't cook worth a damn."

Fabrizo's eyes widened for a moment. He had heard Rose swear before, but it still shocked him each time she did. "What're you having trouble with?"

She threw up her hands. "Everything really. I just can't get it, and I don't know why."

"I could help you if you wanted."

"You could?"

"Well, if you want to cook like an Italian I can."

When Jack came into the kitchen two hours later he discovered Rose and Fabrizo giggling and covered in flour. "What happened?" he asked. "Jack!" Rose ran over to him and threw her arms around his neck. Flour flew into the air around them. He coughed and fanned it away from his face. "I guess I don't have to worry about you bein happy to see me," he said. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wasn't thinking about-" She looked down at herself. "-all this."

"It's okay." He kissed the tip of her nose. "What were you two up to anyway?" She grinned. "Fabri taught me how to make noddles." Jack looked at Fabrizo over her head. _Thank you_ , he said silently. Fabrizo nodded and smiled slightly. He knew Jack wasn't thanking him for trying to improve Rose's cooking skills. He was thanking him for making her happy.

"You didn't have to do that," Jack said after Rose had gone to change into a clean dress. Fabrizo shrugged. "I know I didn't. I wanted to help. And it was fun."

Jack knew there were plenty of men who would be jealous of their best friend, or any man other than themselves, spending time alone with their wives, but he wasn't. He also knew there were a lot of men who would be suspicious if they walked in on a scene like the one that had been going on in the kitchen. But he wasn't one of them. He trusted Fabrizo completely. He knew he would never try to come between them. And he couldn't even entertain the idea of distrusting Rose. "I'm glad you're friends," he said. "I really am."

"Me too. And Jack, I don't want you to worry about anything."

"I don't," Jack said. "I would never think that."\

…

Fabrizo began teaching Rose how to make something new each afternoon. She improved slowly, and at first she could only use her new skills to create Italian dishes, which neither he nor Jack minded, but after a few weeks she was able to prepare American food as well.

"I can't believe I made this," she said one night as they sat down to dinner. Her eyes sparkled. Jack reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I can. I knew you could do it," he said. Rose smiled. "I'm glad someone did." She turned to Fabrizo. "Thank you for helping me." He waved his hand. "Don't thank me. I like teaching you," he assured her.

"I couldn't ask for a better life than this," she said.

Meanwhile, back in Philadelphia, Charlotte's team of private detectives had finally struck gold. "I think we've found them," Tom, the head of her team, said. "You did?" she asked, making no effort to hide her excitement. He handed her a photograph that had been taken the day before. "Is this her?"

…

Rose's curls were the first thing Jack saw when he opened his eyes. Her head rested on his arm. He gave a quick, silent prayer of thanks—as he had every morning since the first time he woke up next to her—before sighing happily and pulling her closer. "I love you," he whispered lightly brushing his lips across her cheek.

Rose smiled and covered his hands with hers. "Someone's awfully cheerful this morning," she teased. "I can't imagine why." He nuzzled her neck. "You'd be able to if you knew what day it is." Her forehead wrinkled. "You're happy because it's Tuesday?"

"No. Try again."

"Um…."

"The date, Rose. Think about the date."

 _What is he talking about_? "Oh!" she gasped. "It's the 15th!" He nodded. "And you know what that means don't you?" She rolled over to face him. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Half of June is already gone?" He shook his head. "Nope. Sure you don't know?" She bit her lip and pretended to consider the question very carefully. "I just can't think of anything else," she said with a shrug.

"Well, that's too bad. Guess I'll just have to get up and go to work and not tell you about the surprise I had planned."

"You planned something?" Rose propped herself up on her elbow. "What is it?" she asked eagerly. "Oh no," he said. "You don't—" Rose's lips crashed into his, silencing him. She cradled his face and tilted his head back. He twisted his fingers into her curls. He was gasping for air when she finally released him. "What was that you were saying?" she whispered.

"I was talking?" he said. She nodded. "Funny how I don't remember much about it," he added. He put a hand against his mouth. "It's almost as if someone were trying to distract me so I'd forget."

"What a horrible thing to do!" Rose said melodramatically. Jack just grinned and kissed her again. "I know exactly what day it is," she said out of the corner of her mouth. "And I love you too." She pressed her hands against his back. "Why, Mrs. Dawson it's barely 9:30 and already you're trying to seduce me." She giggled and moved her lips to his neck. "I don't know what gave you that idea."

…

"We have to get up," Jack whispered. He kissed Rose's shoulder. She groaned. "Aren't you the one who told me it was okay to stay in bed all day if I had nowhere to be?"

"But we have somewhere to be," he said.

"Where?"

"You'll see." He gave her shoulder another quick kiss before slipping out of the bed. Rose folded her arms behind her head and smiled to herself. "You'll love it," he added grabbing some clothes out of a drawer. "Mmm…I already see something I love," she said. Jack threw his head back. "Is that so?" he asked haughtily. He put his hands on his hips and thrust his chest forward. Rose laughed so hard her body shook. "You—you—" She covered her face with her hands. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "Oh Jack, you—" was all she managed to get out before another fit of giggles descended upon her.

….

"Can I open my eyes now?"

Jack smiled at the obvious excitement in her voice. "Not yet," he said. "We're almost there though. Just gotta go up a few more steps." Rose squeezed his hand. "I feel as though I'm going to fall," she said with a nervous laugh. "You don't have to worry about that," he assured her. "I won't let you fall." _Ever_ , he added silently. "You can open your eyes now."

At first Rose didn't know what to make of her surroundings. She cast her gaze around the large room, taking in the seemingly endless shelves of books and the people quietly moving through them. "We're in a library," she said. She looked over at Jack. "Why?"

"Do you remember when you said you'd never played tag?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with—"

"We're gonna play."

"In a library?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why here?"

"Because the nearest woods are too far away," he said simply. She stared at him, a look of disbelief spreading across her face. "You want us to chase each other?" she said slowly. He nodded.

"Through a crowded library?"

He nodded again.

"So let me just make sure I understand this," she continued. "If I do this—" She touched his arm. "—then you're 'it'?"

"That's pretty much how—" She was already halfway across the library by the time he got the word "how" out. "You're cheating!" he called.

Twenty Minutes Later

"And don't ever come back!" Margot the head librarian screeched. Jack and Rose hung their heads as she slammed the door behind them. "Well that's something I've never done before," Rose said in a dazed voice. "Me either," Jack said. "I've been thrown out of a few other places but never a library."

"Maybe if we had been more careful they wouldn't have gotten so mad," she said. He raised an eyebrow. "If we had been more careful? I recall you were the one who knocked that guy into the shelf," he teased. Her cheeks reddened. "I can't believe I did that! That poor man must have thought I was crazy."

Jack slipped his hand into hers. "I think he was just shocked to find himself so close to a woman as beautiful as you are."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that's not what he was thinking."

"I'll bet you a hundred—no, a thousand—no, a million dollars that's exactly what he was thinking."

"I'll take that bet," she said with a smile. "But if I win I don't want a million dollars."

"Oh? And what is it that you want?" he asked just as they stopped at the corner to wait for the light to change. She put a hand on his neck and brought his face close to hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "People are watchin us," he said softly. "Careful or we'll end up in the paper again." She laughed. "Well, let's give them something worth reading about then."

At the same time, a few miles across town, Charlotte was stepping off a train. In her pocket was a slip of paper with Jack and Rose's address scrawled on it. She carried only a small purse. Her trunk had been sent ahead to the hotel. She had more important things to worry about then keeping an eye on and depositing her luggage. "Who," she said to herself, "would be able to tell me where 13th St. is?"


	11. Chapter 11

"Was that the surprise?" Rose asked. They were sitting on a bench in the park. Rose held a small bouquet of red tulips across her lap. She had told Jack not to, but he'd insisted on buying them for her when they passed the flower vendor on their way into the park. "They're your favorite flower," he said. "You should have them."

"We shouldn't be spending our money on flowers."

"Not having this nickel isn't gonna send us onto the streets," he said, pressing the flowers into her hands. "Don't worry. I won't let anything like that happen."

"It isn't that I think you will," she said as they began to walk away. "I just don't want you to feel that you have to do things like this for me."

"I don't. I just like seeing the look on your face when I do something for you and it makes you happy."

He was one of the only people she had ever known who did things purely out of a desire to make someone else happy. "I'm so glad I married you," she said. He stopped and pulled her into his arms. "I'm glad you married me too."

Now they were sitting on a bench in the shade of a large fig tree and she was waiting for him to answer. A part of her hoped he would say yes. She didn't want him to have gone to any trouble on her account, but another part of her hoped he would say no. Jack, as she had been discovering in the two months they'd been together, always seemed to know exactly what would make her the happiest. And he didn't hesitate to do it. Not even if the cost was as high as his library privileges in the D.C. area for the rest of his life.

"Why did you do that?" she'd asked after their kiss on the street corner ended. He gave her a puzzled look. "Why'd I kiss you?"

"No. Why did you take me to play tag like that?"

"Oh." He grinned. "Well, when I was thinking of ways to make this day special I remembered you telling me you'd never played before. I know it's silly and it's nothing compared to what Cal would've given you, but—"

She took his face in her hands. "Don't ever compare yourself to him," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "You are so much better than he is, so much more. And it was a wonderful gift—better than anything he ever gave me."

"You mean that?"

"Of course I do. Jack, you listened to something I said and remembered it. You tried to give me something you'd heard me say I wanted. So what if it didn't cost thousands of dollars? The point is it came from your heart. And I don't want to ever hear another word about him."

Jack smiled and kissed her forehead. He tried so hard not to disappoint her. All he wanted was to live up to her image of him. He knew that in the eyes of the world he was nothing, but in her eyes he was everything. No-one else saw him the way she did. Fabrizo saw him as a friend, a brother, an equal, but it wasn't the same. Jack never noticed the hint of deference that snuck into Fabrizo's eyes from time to time. He had no idea that Fabrizo didn't just see him as a brother. He saw him as the wise, older brother he never had.

Jack smiled as a warm breeze blew his hair back. He leaned against the bench and put an arm around Rose's shoulders. "That was part of it," he said.

"There's more?" she asked eagerly. He nodded and squeezed her shoulder. "There's more." He reached into his pocket with his free hand. "In fact—" He pulled out a small box which he flipped open with his thumb. "Here's some more of the surprise now."

Rose gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth. "Jack!" He looked at the two silver rings. "Is that a good reaction or a bad one?" he asked nervously. "I wasn't sure if—"

"They're exquisite," she said. "But why did you get two? I already have a ring."

"You have an engagement ring," he said. He carefully removed it from her finger and slid the silver band on in its place. "This is a wedding ring." He slid the second ring back on. "Now you have both. Exactly the way you're supposed to."

Rose blinked away tears as she gazed at her left hand. Sunlight bounced off the rings making them sparkle. "Is that an engraving?" she asked, bringing her hand closer to her eyes. He nodded. "I hope it's okay. It seemed like the right thing at the time."

"You jump, I jump," she read softly. A smile spread across her face. "Jack, it's perfect." She took the box from his hands. "Now let me put yours on."

…

"Fabrizo, you'll never believe what we did today!" Rose cried as she and Jack burst through the door of their apartment. Jack was laughing so hard tears rolled down his face. "Fabri, we…" His expression grew serious as he saw the red haired woman sitting opposite Fabrizo on the couch. Rose's jaw dropped. One of her hands flew to her mouth. "Grandmother?" she whispered. Jack's eyes widened. He looked from Rose to the woman. A smile spread across Charlotte's face as she stood up. "Rose!" she cried.

Jack caught Fabrizo's eye. He shrugged.

Rose felt as though the room were spinning. She grabbed Jack's arm to steady herself. "What—How—Why—" she stammered. "What I think she's trying to say," Jack said, "is why did you come?" Charlotte motioned toward the couch. "Would you please sit down? I'll explain everything," she said. Jack and Rose both nodded and sat down next to Fabrizo. Charlotte placed herself in the chair next to the fireplace.

"Rose, I know it's been quite some time since we last saw each other—"

"Ten years," Rose said in a dazed voice. "It was the day I turned seven."

Charlotte looked pained. "I'm sure you're mother never told you why you stopped seeing me did she?"

"She said I'd done something to upset you, but she wouldn't tell me what."

"Yes, that sounds like something she would say." Charlotte sighed. "Well, that isn't at all what happened, but that's not important right now. What is important is that I've come to take you home."

"No!" Rose cried. Jack grabbed her hand. Fabrizo had to keep himself from grabbing her other hand. "I'm not leaving Jack!" He covered their clasped hands with his other one. "You don't have to," he said soothingly. "No-one's gonna make you go anywhere."

"I'm afraid you don't understand," Charlotte said. "I don't want to end your marriage." Jack couldn't believe his ears. A relative of Rose's didn't want to tear them apart? "You don't?" The words seemed to fly out of his mouth of their own accord. "I mean, um—"

"I don't," Charlotte said. "The thought never even entered my mind. What I do want, however, is to take you both back to Philadelphia with me." The three of them stared at her. They were all too stunned to speak. "To live," she added.

Jack's jaw dropped. Rose just stared, too stunned to do anything else. Fabrizo murmured something in Italian. Charlotte's gaze traveled over the three of them. "I realize that must have been a bit startling," she said. "I apologize. I shouldn't have just blurted it out like that. It's just I didn't want you to have any misconceptions about me or my intentions."

"No need to apologize," Rose said in a dazed voice. She stood up. "If you'll all excuse me I think I need some water." Jack touched her arm as she moved past him. "Are you alright?" he asked softly. "I just need a moment," she said. He nodded

As the door swung shut behind her the silence in the living room suddenly became thick and awkward. Fabrizo looked over at Jack who seemed to be deeply interested in his hands _. Maybe if_ _I stare at him long enough he'll say something_ , he thought. But Jack didn't even notice he was being looked at. His mind was racing too fast for him to notice much of anything. _She can't_ _really mean that_ , he thought. _This cannot be happening_.

"I realize this must be quite a shock," Charlotte said. "Especially after everything you've been through."

"How do you know-" Jack began. "Oh. Yeah. The papers."

"Yes, the papers. That's actually how I find out everything about Rose and my daughter," Charlotte said, a hint of sadness in her voice. "Had I known the true reasons behind her engagement sooner I would have put a stop to it myself."

"You would've?" Jack was surprised. How could this woman be Ruth Dewitt-Bukator's mother? She nodded. "My daughter and I don't get along very well," she explained. "But I would never have let that get in the way of helping her."

"What happened between you two? If you don't mind my asking?"

Charlotte sighed. "It's a long story. For now, let's just say we have different ideas about what's important in life. She thought I would be a bad influence on Rose which is why I haven't seen her in years," she added.

Jack's eyebrows knit in confusion. "A bad influence? How?"

"I might teach her that money isn't everything," she said. She chuckled quietly. "But as I told her, Rose seems to have figured that out already."

Jack smiled wryly. "Is that you're way of saying you don't hate me enough to try and have me sent to prison for the next ten years?"

Charlotte clapped her hands together and laughed loudly. "I don't hate you at all," she said. "In fact, I quite like you."

"Wait'll you've known him longer," Fabrizo said. They both turned to him. "What?" he said, suddenly self-conscious. "It's true." Jack shook his head, but he was smiling. "Fabri, I don't know what I'm gonna do with you."

"I already told her that," Fabrizo said. "While we were waiting for you."

"What else did you say?" Jack asked, embarrassed at the thought of being discussed when he wasn't around. "He said you and Rose were very happy together," Charlotte said. "He said you love her very much, that you had since the first moment you saw her."

"You told that story!" Jack cried. His cheeks burned. He didn't blush easily, but the thought of a total stranger hearing the story of how he had been entranced by Rose from afar was enough to make him. He knew it didn't sound like much, especially compared to some of the stories he himself could tell about them, but it was a deeply personal moment for him.

Fabrizo ducked his head and avoided his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "She asked about you."

"I did," Charlotte said. "He was just doing his best to answer my questions."

Jack ran a hand through his hair. "I probably woulda done the same thing," he admitted. Fabrizo opened his mouth to reply but closed it again as Rose came back into the room. "Are you feeling better?" Jack asked as she resumed her place between them. "I am," she said. There was a slight redness around her eyes. Jack wondered if she'd been crying but knew better than to ask in front of everyone. "That's good," he said, taking her hand.

Charlotte smiled to herself. Fabrizo's description of their love didn't do justice to the real thing. _How could Ruth have wanted to destroy this?_ she wondered even though she already knew the answer. Jack didn't even come close to having enough money to satisfy her daughter. She sighed quietly. Money came and went. She'd tried always tried so hard to teach her that, but the lesson never sank in, not even after she lost everything. Her pride wouldn't let her admit she had been wrong, that she had married for the wrong reasons and lived to regret it.

"I'm sorry for leaving," Rose said. "I hope you weren't offended." Charlotte waved away her apology. "If I were you I would have needed a moment of my own," she said. "But now that you've had one, I have to ask, how do you feel about what I've said?"

"Oh, I don't know," Rose said nervously. "I mean, it's a generous offer, but-" She looked at Jack. He squeezed her hand. "I really can't tell you anything right now. I'm sorry," she said. Charlotte nodded. "I understand. However, I do want to discuss it further, that is, if neither of you mind."

"I don't mind if Rose doesn't," Jack said. Rose shook her head. "I don't mind."

Fabrizo's heart sank as he listened to the exchange. Suddenly he saw the home they had created for themselvs slipping away. You knew it wouldn't last forever, he reminded himself sternly. But he never thought it would end like this. In his vision of their futures they never truly parted ways. They just found separate homes after he got married and after Jack and Rose started having children. But if they went to Philadelphia they would separate forever.

"I insist you let me take the three of you to dinner," Charlotte said. Seeing Jack and Rose about to protest she added, "Please?"

The two of them exchanged looks. Jack nodded. Rose looked over at Fabrizo. "What do you think?" she asked.

"Huh?" He had been too absorbed in his thoughts to hear the conversation going on around him. "Oh, um, I think it's a good idea," he said quickly. Jack shot him a puzzled look but didn't say anything. _We'll talk later_ , he told himself. _All three of us._

…

Much to the relief of everyone but Charlotte the conversation during dinner never turned to the future, but rather, focused primarily on the past. Rose knew little about her family on her mother's side having had almost no contact with them for most of her life, and she was eager to find out everything she could. Her enthusiasm was infectious; it wasn't long before Charlotte pushed the topic she most wanted to discuss to the back of her mind. Of course, she had every intention of coming back to it later.

"I can't quite see my mother as a child," Rose said. "It just doesn't seem right somehow. Isn't that strange?"

"I don't think so," Jack said. "I kinda can't see it either," he added hesitantly. Rose looked at him for a moment before she burst into a fit of giggles. She didn't know if it was the three glasses of champagne she had somehow managed to drink, even though the main course was just now being served, or if it was just the overall absurdity of the image being confirmed by Jack, but try as she might she couldn't quite hold in her laughter. "And that's strange!" she said in between giggles.

"Yes, it is," Jack agreed. He carefully removed her glass from her hand and put a roll in its place. "Why don't you try eating that?" he suggested gently. "Thank you," she said. She smiled warmly at him, her eyes sparkling. He knew the fact that she was on the verge of toppling from tipsy into drunk probably had something to do with it, but the pure joy radiating from her made him feel warm all over anyway.

Charlotte's lips turned up slightly at the corners. "Yes, why don't you try eating something, Rose dear." Rose nodded. "I feel better," she said a moment later after she finished the roll.

Fabrizo sat next to Jack and silently observed everything that was going on. It wasn't that he didn't want to join the conversation, but rather that he didn't know what to say. A point had yet to be reached at which he could jump in. He contented himself with the thought that as long as Charlotte was telling stories the absence of his voice wouldn't noticed—after all, Jack and Rose weren't talking very much themselves. And besides, he had more important things to do, like figure out which fork to use.

Fortunately, Jack noticed his confusion in time to help. "Start from the outside," he muttered, nudging him with his elbow. Fabrizo stared at him. "What?"

"The outside," Jack said out of the corner of his mouth. "Start there and just keep on moving inward every time they hand you another plate." Fabrizo nodded. _Ah, now it makes sense,_ he thought. _Sort of._ The sound of Rose saying his name stopped him from pondering the matter any further.

"Fabrizo's from Naples," she said. He looked over at her, confused. "That's my favorite city in Italy," Charlotte said. He turned to her. "That's because it's the best one," he said. His heart swelled with pride at the thought of his home. "It really is," Charlotte laughed. And before he knew it they found themselves engaged in a half hour discussion of Italy.

"I can't believe you've done all of that," Rose said, awestruck. "You really just went and lived there? By yourself?"

"I really did," Charlotte said.

"Weren't you afraid?" Rose asked.

"Well, yes, and that nearly stopped me before I even got started." She gave a quick laugh. "But I knew it was something I had to do. I can't quite explain it."

Rose reached under the table and found Jack's hand. "I think I can understand."

…..

"That was quite a day," Rose said. She was sitting on their bed brushing her hair. "Yeah, it was somethin else," Jack said. He sat next to her, unlacing his shoes. He kicked them off and started unbuttoning his shirt. A slight smile spread across Rose's face as his bare chest came into view. "Are you looking at me again?" he asked in mock horror. "Rose Dawson, I just don't know what to do with you!"

She chuckled quietly. "For some reason I don't believe that." He slid his shirt off and tossed it aside. "Well, maybe I do, but that doesn't mean I'm not open to suggestions," he said, leaning toward her. She raised an eyebrow. "Are you being suggestive?" she asked.

It was his turn to chuckle. "Are you playing with word meanings?"

"Maybe," she said as their lips met. She pressed her hands against the back of his neck and pulled him closer. "Don't you ever get enough of me?" he teased. She grabbed his hands. "Do you ever get enough of me?" she asked, placing them on her breasts. His breathing quickened.

"That's just not fair," he said. She giggled and kissed him again. He slid his hands around to her back. She wrapped her arms around him as he slowly laid her down.

….

"Jack?'

"Yeah?"

"Are you awake?"

"I'm awake."

Rose ran her fingers through his hair. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded, tilting his head up so he could see her face. "You know you can ask me anything."

"It's about today," she said slowly.

"Is it about what she said?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "I was waiting for you to bring that up."

"We don't have to talk about it," she said quickly. "No, we do," he said. He propped himself up on his elbows. Their faces were just inches apart, their bodies pressed together. "This is certainly an unusual position for a serious discussion," she said with a grin.

He gave a quick shrug. "It's an unusual discussion."

"You've got me there." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "What are you going to do?"

"You mean do we go?"

"Yes."

"Well, do you want to?"

"Do you?'

"I asked you first." He grinned as she responded by rolling her eyes. "I mean it," he said. "Do you want to?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. "Part of me does, but…" She sighed. "That isn't the kind of life I want."

"Well, we wouldn't have to live the way you used to," he pointed out. "She's nothing like your mother. It wouldn't be same at all."

"You're right. But I love the life we already have. I love waking up with you every morning and having breakfast with you before you leave for work. I love spending the afternoon with Fabrizo. I love hearing about your day when you come home at night. Maybe it doesn't sound like much, but we've built a home here. I'm not ready to give it up yet."

"You don't have to. We'll just find a way to tell her we'd rather stay here."

Jack woke up early the next morning. Unable to get back to sleep he slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Rose, and headed to the kitchen. When he came in Fabrizo was sitting at the table drinking a cup of steaming black coffee. He nodded at Jack. "You're up early."

Jack poured a cup of his own and sat down across from him. "Couldn't get back to sleep," he said. He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. "How're you drinking that?"

"It's good."

"It's a painful experience I don't want to have again."

"It's Italian."

"I knew it seemed familiar."

Fabrizo shook his head. "Americans. Don't know anything about taste."

"This one never claimed to," Jack quipped.

Fabrizo rolled his eyes. "You sure did a lot of claiming about art in Paris."

"Ah, but that's different. I know about that."

"Well, I know about food," Fabrizo replied.

"That—" Jack pointed at his cup. "—is not food. I don't know what the hell that is."

"There's extra toast," Fabrizo said. "If you want it." He motioned toward the stove behind him. "Thanks," Jack said. He grabbed the two leftover pieces—wondering briefly if Fabrizo had somehow known he would be around to eat them—and sat back down. For a few minutes there was silence save for the sound of Jack chewing.

"So when're you going?" Fabrizo asked. Jack brushed toast crumbs off his mouth. "Where?" he said, taking another bite. Fabrizo avoided his eyes. "To Philadelphia."

"We're not."

"You're not?" he cried excitedly. "I mean," he said calmly, "why not?"

"We talked about it, and we don't really want to." Jack shrugged. "That's pretty much all there is to it," he added.

"Oh. Well, you know—"

"Yeah, I know."


	12. Chapter 12

Rose broke the news to Charlotte over lunch that day. She tried to be as delicate and straightforward as possible, but after it was over she couldn't shake the feeling she had handled it the wrong way. Charlotte didn't say anything at first. She just sat back in her chair and stared at her hands. Rose felt a pang of guilt as she saw a look of disappointment pass across her face. "It doesn't have anything to do with you," she said. "It's just we like things the way they are right now. I hope you understand. We want you to stay in our lives," she added. "Please don't take this to mean that we don't."

Charlotte nodded. "Yes, I understand. It was a bit presumptuous of me, I suppose."

"Oh no," Rose assured her, "not at all. It was actually rather generous of you." She smiled wryly. "It's probably the best reaction we've gotten from anyone so far."

"If you're referring to your mother, all I can say is don't worry about what she thinks."

"It isn't that I'm worried about it," Rose said slowly. "It's just that I wish she could see things from my perspective. I wish she could see that what's best for her isn't what's best for me. I know we'll never be close. After all, we never have been. But I don't want there to be this hostility between us."

Charlotte sighed. "Your mother is a stubborn woman. She has her own ideas, and she sticks to them. She refuses to let anyone dictate the terms of her life. She knows what she wants, and she's willing to do anything to get it." She gave a short laugh. "She's a bit more like the two of us than I dare say she'd care to admit it."

Rose just shook her head. "How's that for irony?"

The whole matter seemed to be settled. Charlotte would be going back to Philadelphia sometime during the next week, but they would stay in close contact with her. However, something happened Saturday afternoon that changed everything.

Fabrizo was at work taking care of a rush order that hadn't been finished the day before. Rose was shopping for food and household supplies. Jack offered to go with her, but she insisted she wanted to handle everything herself.

"I can do it," she said.

"I know you can," he said. "I just don't want you to think I won't help." She smiled. "I know you will." She gave him a quick kiss. "You're a wonderful husband."

"Do you really think so?"

She kissed him again. "I don't think I could ask for a better one." He grinned and pulled her into a hug. "I hope you always think that."

After she left Jack pulled a chair over to the front window and settled in with a few sheets of paper. He intended to sketch the scene on the street below, but he had barely begun when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. "That's weird," he said to himself. He laid aside his drawing supplies and hurried to answer it.

"Charlotte," he said, shocked. "What're you doin here? I mean—"

She laughed. "No need to explain yourself. I would have said the same thing if I were you." He broke into a smile and stepped aside to let her in. "I'm afraid you might have wasted your time," he said, "It's just me here."

"Actually," she said. "It's you I wanted to speak to."

"Me?" He gave her a puzzled look. "Why?"

"Shall we sit down? This might take a few minutes."

"Yeah…um, sure." He slowly sat back down in the chair next to the window. She took a seat on the couch. "Jack, I'm sure we can both agree on a few things," she began. "For instance, we both care a great deal about Rose." A small knot formed in his stomach. _Where is she going with this?_ He just nodded in response. "I know we both want her to have the best life possible," she continued.

The knot in his stomach grew. "Can I stop you there? I've got a feeling I already know what you're gonna say, and well, it's not anything I haven't thought about." He pushed his hair back. "I'm not an idiot. I know I don't deserve her, but—"

"Yes, you do."

Jack stared at her in disbelief. "What?"

"You deserve her." The corners of Charlotte's mouth turned up. "That wasn't at all what you were expecting to hear was it?" He shook his head. "That was probably the last thing I was expecting you to say," he replied.

"I suppose you thought I came here to tell you to leave her alone or something equally absurd?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, it kinda sounded like that, and to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Well, even if I did want to see the two of you separated—which I don't—I'm not so foolish as to think there is a force on this Earth strong enough to keep you from each other," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. "You've already proven that. No, what I want is to help you."

"How would you do that?" he asked. "Wait, that's why you wanted us to come to Philadelphia, isn't it?"

"That's part of it, yes. Though I must say I do want to get to know Rose better. I've seen so little of her, and I want to remedy that while I still can."

"What do you mean 'while you still can'?"

"Jack, I'm going to be honest with you. I feel you're the sort of person one can talk to."

He chuckled quietly. "I get that a lot."

Her mouth formed a half smile. "Why doesn't that surprise me? It's like this," she went on, her tone serious, "I don't have very much family. My husband died some years ago, and the few relatives I do have that are still living, well, I barely speak to them. Except for you and Rose," she added. "You two are, in a sense, my only family, and until a few weeks ago I didn't even have that."

"I understand how you feel," he said. "I don't have any family either. Well, except for Rose and Fabrizo." He looked down at his hands. "I can't believe I even have them sometimes."

"Then you understand how important it is for me to know the two of you are taken care of, especially since I may not have that much time left."

"What're you talking about? You've got—"

She held a hand up. "We both know it's not true. I've had the good fortune to lead a long and full life, but it's going to come to an end sooner or later. And when it does I want to know things are the way they should be."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I want to leave my estate to the two of you," she said. "All of it."

…

Jack's mind was still racing when Fabrizo came home. He didn't notice his friend's dazed expression at first. He passed through the living room and into the kitchen. "Was that Charlotte?" he called as he filled a glass with water. Jack didn't answer.

"Jack?" Fabrizo leaned against the doorway that separated the two rooms. Jack's head was in his hands. He was slumped forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Jack, are you okay?" he asked, concern in his voice. "Did something happen? Is it Rose?"

"She's fine."

"Well, what is it then?"

Jack raised his head. "I don't even know how to begin to say this." Fabrizo sat down on the couch. "Just keep doing that," he said. "Keep saying words and you'll get there."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Is that the way? Speak words?"

Fabrizo nodded knowingly. "It's easier than you thought, huh?"

"Tu sei uno stronzo a volte, sai che?" You're an asshole sometimes, ya know that? But Jack was grinning slightly. Fabrizo's jaw dropped in mock horror. "E nella mia lingua?" And in my own language? "Lei ha la faccia tosta di insultarmi nella mia lingua?" You have the nerve to insult me in my own language? "Seriously," he said in English. "What happened?"

Jack sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You know how you saw Charlotte on your way out? Well, she came to talk to me." Fabrizo looked surprised. "Just you?" Jack nodded. "Why just you? What would she need to tell just you?"

"That she's leaving a fortune to me and Rose. I think she wanted to tell me alone because she isn't sure how receptive Rose'll be to the idea," he added.

Fabrizo didn't hear the last part. He stared at him in disbelief. "Cosa?" What?

"Cosa is right," Jack said. "I don't know what the hell's going on anymore."

"Did she say why?"

"Yeah. She said we were basically the only family she had left, and she wanted to make sure what she had went to people who could use and appreciate it. She didn't exactly come right out and say it, but I got the feeling she wants to make sure Rose is taken care of."

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're rich now, in a way."

Jack's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "So? I don't see what-Are you saying we should go?"

Fabrizo avoided his eyes. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying you can live however you want now so you should think about that."

"I don't have to think about it," Jack said, shaking his head slowly. "I don't want anything to change. Rose doesn't want anything to change."

"But that was before," Fabrizo pointed out. "What if she feels differently after you tell her about this?"

It was a possibility that hadn't occurred to Jack. He'd been too busy trying to wrap his mind around the fact that someone intended to leave them a very large fortune, among other things, to even begin thinking about how it might affect their lives. _But what if he's right? What if she_ _decides she wants to go back to that life now?_ He shook his head again. No, she wouldn't do that. She'd already turned down one offer to rejoin society's elite. There was no reason to think she'd suddenly change her mind. "That won't happen," he said.

"Are you sure?" Seeing Jack's expression he quickly added, "I'm not trying to insult her. I adore her. I'm just saying that she might feel differently about that world if she can have you with her. It's something you need to be prepared for." Fabrizo knew he sounded harsh, but he wasn't trying to be. He really did adore Rose and thought very highly of her. He had no reason to suspect she would ever hurt Jack or try to get him to do something he didn't want to do, but the simple fact was Jack had been his best friend first. How could he not try to look out for him, even if it was probably unnecessary?

"Yeah, I'm sure," Jack said. "That's not the life she wants at all. With or without me," he added. "She hates it either way."

"I'm not saying she doesn't. I just..." Fabrizo searched for the right words.

"I think I understand," Jack said. "Don't worry about it."

Jack was still sitting in his place by the window when Rose came in a half an hour later. His barely begun drawing lay forgotten next to his feet. "Are you okay?" she asked. She set her bags down next to the door and pushed it shut with her foot. "Jack?"

"Jack?" she said again, dropping to her knees in front of him. "What's wrong?" He smiled and took her hands in his. "Rose honey, I need to tell you something."

"What?" She tried to keep from sounding nervous but failed. _He's smiling so it can't be that bad,_ she told herself.

"It's not bad," he assured her. "Come up here next to me."

"Now will you tell me?" she asked once she was settled into the space next to him. He laced his fingers through hers. "This is gonna sound...crazy," he said. "Charlotte came over while you were out today, and she told me something." He stroked her hands with his thumbs. "About us. About our future I guess you could say."

"What?" Rose's eyes were round pools of anxiety. "Is my mother trying something else?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "No," he repeated, in a normal tone. "It's nothing like that. I said it wasn't bad." He took a deep breath. "Rose, she told me she intends to name us in her will."

Questions swirled through Rose's brain but the first one that popped out of her mouth was, "What would she want to give us?"

"Well...everything."

Rose gaped at him. "Everything?"

"Everything."

"She can't do that!" Rose cried, her voice thick with disbelief. "She can't just...Why would she want to do that? Surely there's someone else...My mother..."

"She said we were the only people she wanted to give it to, to make a long story short."

"Why did she tell you? Why didn't she wait and tell us together?"

"I think it's because she wasn't sure how you'd react. I figure she thought it might go over better if I told you." He studied her face. "Are you upset?" She shook her head. "I'm not upset. Just—just shocked. I can't believe this is happening."

"Neither can I."

"This won't change things will it?"

"Do you want things to change?"

"No."

He brought their clasped hands up to his lips and kissed them. "Then no."

 _Two Months Later_

 _August 1912_

 _Philadelphia_

Ruth crumpled the letter in her fist. The black letters swam before her eyes. _Inform you that the_ _primary beneficiary of Mrs. Snowe's will…effective immediately…._ "How could she do it?" Her voice came out as little more than a thin croak. "Just give it all to them." She knew deep down she didn't have any right to expect to inherit anything from her mother, not after everything that had passed between them, but she didn't care. After all, their broken relationship wasn't her fault. She hadn't even been counting on an inheritance from her mother, and until that moment she would have died—or lived with Jack and Rose—before she accepted a dime from Charlotte. But things were different now. "She robbed me of what was rightfully mine all those years ago, and now she's trying to do it again." Her mouth twisted. "Well, let's just see about that."

…..

Charlotte set her teacup down as Ruth stormed into her sitting room. "I see you got my lawyer's letter," she said calmly. "You mean this?" Ruth hissed, holding up the crumpled paper. "Yes, I received it no more than an hour ago, and I'll thank you not to look so smug about it."

"I wasn't being smug. I just knew there couldn't possibly be another reason for you to come rushing in here unannounced," Charlotte said matter-of-factly. "Though I must admit I am a bit surprised. I can't remember the last time I saw you display this much emotion."

Ruth's hands shook with rage. "You mock me! All of you!"

"I am not, and I don't know of anyone who is." Charlotte motioned for her to sit down. "Why don't you try taking a breath and explaining how you feel." Ruth eyed the offered chair with disgust. "I'll stand," she said coldly. "I just came to ask how you could do this to me." Charlotte sighed. "What have I done to you this time?"

"Don't pretend you don't know. Leaving everything to them? As if they deserve any of it? As if they know what to do with any of it?"

"I happen to think they do deserve it, and they do know how to best make use of it."

"Those two? Did you even meet that boy she married?" Ruth asked incredulously. "He wouldn't know the value of money no matter how much you gave him. He's happy sleeping under bridges! And as for Rose, I don't even want to think about what he's convinced her is acceptable."

"I'm not sure you met the same young man I did." Charlotte poured herself a fresh cup of tea. "The Jack Dawson I met was respectful and courteous, attentive and loving to his wife, a very talented artist, to be completely honest someone I liked very much." She stirred in a spoonful of sugar. "And the Rose Dawson I met—" Ruth cringed. Charlotte continued on as though she didn't see it. "—was a spirited, intelligent, happy woman who couldn't have been more in love with her husband if she'd tried." She smiled wistfully. "They reminded me a bit of your father and me when we were young."

"Must you bring up Father?" Ruth said. "Must you remind me of the embarrassment that was your relationship?"

"I don't understand what you were always so embarrassed about. Your father and I had a perfectly healthy relationship. We were great friends right up until the day he died."

"You were disgraceful together, that's what you were!"

Charlotte looked pained. "Is that all you came to say?" Ruth drew herself up to her full height. "No. I came to say I hope you're happy with what you've reduced me to." Her voice shook. "I did everything I was supposed to, and what thanks do I get for it?"

Charlotte stood up. Holding her hands out she said, "It doesn't have to be this way. It never had to be this way. This is not how I ever wanted—"

"No! I'll not have any more of that. I heard enough of that from you when I married John, and I've heard enough of it from Rose to last me a lifetime." She turned on her heel and walked toward the door. "I just hope," she added, over her shoulder, "she lives to regret it, and that I get to see it."

Charlotte sank back into her chair. Her head dropped into her hands. Pain blossomed behind her eyes. _How did things end up like this_? she wondered. _Did I really drive her away? Were we really so wrong to expect her to want more out of life?_

"Are you feeling alright?" Rose bent down next to her. She lightly touched her shoulder. "Is it one of your headaches again?" Charlotte nodded. She lifted her head and smiled tensely. "It isn't so bad, Rose dear. I was just pitying myself. Where are Jack and Fabrizo?"

Rose grinned. "They're still counting rooms. When I left they were somewhere around 39." Charlotte laughed. "Well, they don't have many more to go then." Just then Jack and Fabrizo burst through the door. "43!" Fabrizo exclaimed. "No, it's 44!" Jack argued. "That little one doesn't count!" Fabrizo said.

"Yes, it does! Besides, you counted in Italian."

"So did you!"

"Well, I—"

Rose cleared her throat loudly. Their heads snapped toward her. Sheepish looks covered their faces. "Sorry," Fabrizo said. "We got carried away." Jack ducked his head. "Yeah, we kind—I'm sorry. We won't do it again."

Rose laughed and took Jack's hands in hers. "What's so funny?" he asked, pulling his head back as she leaned in to kiss him. "As if you don't know," she replied. "I don't," he said. He leaned further back. "You'll have to tell me."

Charlotte and Fabrizo exchanged glances. "They're always like this," Fabrizo said. "I noticed," Charlotte said, an amused smile spreading across her face.

"Are you two talking about us?" Jack pretended to be offended. "I don't know why you'd do that." Rose shook her head. "Ignore them." He chuckled and pulled her closer to him. "You just want me to kiss you." She tilted her head up and brushed her lips against his. "I never said that."

"Well, when you're finished with that we'll all go have something to eat," Fabrizo called. "If you know, you ever decide you need food."

"Let them be," Charlotte said softly. "They deserve a moment."

…..

"Jack—" was all Rose was able to get out before his lips crashed into hers. She giggled and tried to move away. He lightly laid a hand on the back of her neck. "Don't," he whispered. "And why not?" she teased. She gently nipped at his lips with her teeth. "It isn't as though you want—Oh!" she gasped as he swept her into a dip. "It isn't as though what?" he said. "What were you saying?" She laughed. "I was saying something?"

Jack leaned in to kiss her again. "Uh-huh," he murmured. Just as their lips were about to meet there was a sharp knock on the door. He groaned and set her back on her feet. "Oh, just ignore it," she said, pressing herself against him. He glanced over at the door and then back at her. "Whoever it was will probably go—" He was interrupted by another knock, louder this time. "Or not," she said with a quiet groan. He gave her a quick kiss before crossing the room and throwing open the door.

Fabrizo stood on the other side, grinning. "What took you so—" His eyes traveled over Jack's face, noting his slightly flushed cheeks and his darkened eyes. "You probably don't care at all about what I was going to tell you," he said. Jack smiled wryly. "Oh, I care. Do step inside and share with us what was so important." The sarcasm in his tone wasn't lost on Fabrizo.

Rose stood awkwardly next to the window. She knew he knew what had been going on—or what had been about to go on—and she wasn't sure how to behave. The three of them lived together; there was no question about whether or not he knew what they got up to. He teased Jack often enough when he thought she couldn't hear, though he'd never said anything disrespectful or insulting, at least not about her. Yet it was different having him walk in and interrupt them. She forced herself to breathe normally and prayed her face didn't betray her feelings. "Don't listen to him, Fabri," she said. "What's going on?"

"Well, Charlotte sent me up here to get you," he said. Jack gave him a puzzled look. "Why?" Fabrizo shrugged. "She said she wanted to show us something." Jack and Rose exchanged glances. They had yet to venture out of the house since arriving in Philadelphia two days before. Neither of them had said it, but they were both a bit hesitant about being seen in Rose's home city. They weren't afraid of running into Cal, but rather of running into everyone else. Thanks to all the attention they had received any hopes they had of remaining anonymous—in Philadelphia, at least—were nonexistent. It had been all Charlotte could do to convince them to come for a visit. Finally she had appealed to Jack and Fabrizo privately and they had each done their part to win over Rose.

"Show us something?" Rose moved closer to Jack. "What could she want to show us?" Fabrizo shrugged. "I dunno, but she seemed excited about it."

…

"There you are!" Charlotte exclaimed as the three of them trooped down the stairs. Her eyes lit up. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost again." Jack chuckled. "You only do that four times," he said.

Rose nudged him gently with her elbow. "Four? I thought it was six?"

"No, no, no," Jack said quickly. "Fabrizo got lost six times. I only got lost four times." Fabrizo tapped him on the shoulder. "Yes?" he said, turning to face him. "Jack, you got lost five and a half times," Fabrizo said. Rose giggled. "Five and a half? How do you get lost half a time?"

Jack shot Fabrizo a mock-irritated look. "Fabri, why don't you tell her?"

"Fine. I will."

 _The Night Before_

 _Jack stood at the end of what appeared to be a never ending hallway. There was a set of steps at the end of it. So that means I'm on the second floor, he thought. Because that's not the main staircase. Unless I've somehow made it to the other end of the house and those are the back stairs. He pursed his lips. Which way had Rose gone? How would you know? She came up here an hour ago, remember? You wanted to stay downstairs and finish that game of cards with Fabrizo? "That was a mistake," he muttered. "Though I guess it's my own fault. I should be able to remember the way back to our room." He sighed and started forward. It was out there somewhere; standing around wouldn't help him any._

 _He rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and immediately knew he had come the wrong way. "I was on the second floor after all…" He turned around. "So if I go back down…" A second voice joined his. "I'll find—Hey!" Jack exclaimed, whipping his head to the left. "Fabri! What're you doin up here?"_

 _"Lost. Same as you."_

 _"Who said I was lost?"_

 _"Well, you kind of did."_

 _"Shut up!"_

 _Fabrizo held up his hands. "Hey, you asked."_

 _"Why don't you pretend I didn't, huh?"_

 _"Fine."_

 _They stood in silence for a few minutes, avoiding each other's eyes. Fabrizo rocked back on his heels. "So, you're not lost," he said. "You're just standing around up here because you like the wallpaper so much?"_

 _"As a matter of fact, I do like it," Jack said. Fabrizo raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know I love the way purple and yellow blend together?" Jack went on. "Well, now you know."_

 _Present_

Rose was laughing so hard tears were running down her face as the three of them climbed into the backseat of Charlotte's car. "You—you…" was all she could manage to get out. "Yeah. I was lost," Jack said. "But so was he. He left that part out." She laid a hand on Jack's chest. "I love you," she said. "Bad sense of direction and all." Jack put an arm around her. "I have a good sense of direction," he said. "Just not when everything looks the same."

She smiled and scooted closer to him. "You did do a wonderful job of finding your way around the _Titanic_."

"See?" he said. "I'm just not used to the house yet."

"Whatever you gotta tell yourself," Fabrizo said. Jack playfully kicked his ankle. "None of that, boys," Rose said imperiously. "We shall be well behaved on this trip."

Charlotte smiled in the front seat. She loved their youth and their energy. It made her feel like the young woman she hadn't been for many years. _Perhaps_ , she thought, _with them around things might go differently._

"Miss Charlotte, where are we going?" Fabrizo asked.

She looked at them over her shoulder. "I told you not to call me Miss." He dropped his head. "I'm sor—" She waved away his apology. "It's fine. I'd call me that too if I were you. I imagine it's strange referring to an old lady by her first name."

"Charlotte, you're not old," Jack said.

She smiled wryly. "With your looks, my boy, you don't need to resort to flattery."

Jack blushed slightly and ducked his head. Rose poked him in the stomach. "I told you it wasn't just me," she whispered. "But he's right," she said in a normal voice. "You really aren't."

"I appreciate you all for saying that, but…" Her eyes took on a faraway look. "Well, it doesn't really matter, does it?" She looked at Fabrizo. "Where are we going? That's a surprise."

…

Rose gasped. "Jack look!" She tugged on his shirtsleeve. "Look!" He grinned. "I see it! Sweetie, I see it." Fabrizo stared out the window on the other side of the car. His eyes were like saucers. "It's incredible," he said quietly. "So am I to assume you like it?" Charlotte asked. They nodded in unison. She smiled. "Good. Shall we explore?"

Jack and Rose could barely contain their unspoken urge to run up the street. There was so much to see they didn't know where to start, and they wanted to see it all at once. "Look at that painting!" Rose cried, pointing at a street artist. "It's rude to point," Jack said, leaning down so his mouth was close to her ear. "It's not something well-brought up girls do."

"They also don't marry wandering artists," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Touché."

"Guess I'm not as well-brought up as you thought, huh?" she said, tilting her head up toward him. He slipped an arm around her waist and let his hand find the small of her back. "Oh, you are," he said softly. "But in a good way."

"What—"

"Are you two just gonna stand there all day?" Fabrizo called. He and Charlotte stood at the corner. "No, we're coming!" Jack called back. Rose slipped her hand into his. "Let's explore," she said eagerly.

It turned out Charlotte didn't just want to show them one thing. In fact, it would have been more accurate to say she wanted to show them everything. She had taken them to the "bohemian' district of Philadelphia. It was the haven of writers, artists, eccentrics—anyone who was creative or who didn't fit the accepted mold of society was there.

"I never knew this existed," Rose said, awe in her voice. "I've lived here my whole life and never once thought…"

"Well, it is relatively new," Charlotte said. "Though even if it wasn't I doubt your mother would have allowed you to mix with such—ahem, vulgar people."

"Yes, well, my mother is a great judge of character," Rose said, a sarcastic edge in her tone. Jack gave her a slightly surprised look. He hadn't realized she was still harboring anger against her mother. _Though I guess I can't blame her, and three months really isn't that long if you think about it._

They explored for a few hours, and then Charlotte took them to dinner in a small, basement café. It was lit by candles in wine bottles. A band played softly in the back corner. A few couples danced slowly in front of the small stage. Abstract paintings decorated the walls.

"This looks like some of the places we saw in Paris," Jack remarked as he pulled a chair out for Rose. "Yeah, it does," Fabrizo agreed.

"I never got to see anything like this at all," Rose grumbled, sitting down. "Paris was one long bore for me."

"Well, I'll just have to take you back then, won't I?" Jack said with a grin. He sat down in the chair next to her. Rose reached across the table and took his hand. "Paris with you would be wonderful," she said. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. Jack turned her hand over and lightly stroked her palm with his thumb. They had both forgotten Fabrizo and Charlotte—and everyone else, for that matter—even existed.

"See, I told you," Fabrizo muttered. Charlotte waved away his comment. "You don't bring a couple to a place like this and expect them not to react." She didn't mind Jack and Rose's displays of affection one bit. In fact, she rather enjoyed them. Not only did they remind her of what life had been like with her own husband, but they gave her hope. Her daughter hadn't been able to find love for herself—hadn't allowed herself to even look—but her granddaughter had. So that meant other people could too. Others could share the kind of love she had once thought was reserved only for her and Paul.


	13. Chapter 13

Rose tried to wriggle out of Jack's grasp. "Jack, no," she hissed through clenched teeth. But she was smiling despite her tone. "Someone might see us." Jack slid his hands across her stomach and pulled her closer. "No, they won't," he said softly. She closed her eyes and shivered as his cool breath blew across her neck. One of his hands left her body. A moment later she heard a quiet click. "At least not if you take a step forward," he added.

Rose stared at the open door in front of her. "Weren't we just on the stairs?" Jack chuckled. "You distracted me!" she accused, a laugh of her own escaping. "Did I?" he said, feigning innocence. "That's not at all what I meant to do." She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him forward. "Is that so?" she said. He nodded and kicked the door shut behind them. "I was hoping to have a different effect on you," he said, brushing his lips across hers. It had been hours since Fabrizo had interrupted them yet his desire for her hadn't diminished at all. It had only increased.

"And what affect would that be, Mr. Dawson?" she whispered. She slid her hands down his chest, stopping when she reached his pants. She gazed up at him through her lashes; her curls framed her face. He swallowed a groan. "You seem to have figured it out, Mrs. Dawson." She smiled and curled her fingers around the top button of his pants. "Have I?" She took a step back, pulling him with her. "I'm not sure." She unhooked the top button. Her eyes flicked from her hand to his face. His breathing quickened; his voice came out a hoarse whisper. "Rose."

"Jack."

They crashed into each other, as if pulled by a magnet. Their lips moved frantically, each finding the other's cheek, jaw, neck, ear, exploring as though they didn't already know every inch of each other. Finally their lips met in a deep kiss. Jack's hands slid down her back. His fingers tore at the tiny buttons on her dress. He couldn't get her out of it fast enough. Rose moaned and attacked the rest of the buttons on his pants. It never occurred to her to bother with his shirt first.

After what seemed like hours they collapsed onto the bed, both finally naked. Rose ran her hands through his hair. The soft locks slid through her fingers like silk. He kissed her arms. She raised her knees and pressed them against his hips. She moved her legs back in an attempt to move him forward. "Are you trying to tell me something?" he said softly, bringing his head down to kiss her throat.

"What could I possibly be trying to tell you?"

...

Rose smiled to herself. Even through her closed eyes she could tell Jack was looking at her. "What are you doing?" she asked. He gave a quiet chuckle. "Not touching you," he answered. Her forehead wrinkled. "What does that-" Her words were lost in a gasp of surprise. "Yes, you are!"

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Look." She opened her eyes. He was laying on his side, propped up on his elbow; his head rested on his hand. His other hand was hovering just inches above her breasts. "See? I'm not touching you," he said. For a moment she could only stare at him. "Why... You!" she cried, shoving him onto his back. He laughed and held his hands up in mock defeat as she climbed on top of him. "Yes?" he said, once she had settled into a position straddling his hips.

"I felt that!"

"Felt what? I wasn't touching you."

"You were," she insisted. "Your hand was on me." He shook his head. "I'd tell you if it was." She crossed her arms over her chest, much to his dismay. "I suppose you're going to tell me we're just that connected?" she said.

"Well, since you seem to be able to feel my hand when I'm only thinking about touching you..." Rose rolled her eyes. She laid down on him, settling her head in the space between his shoulder and jaw. "Why'd you roll your eyes?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her. "I think it's a nice idea."

"It is a nice idea," she said. He smiled as her lips brushed against his neck. "I was rolling my eyes because it took until just now for you to realize that's how we are."

"Oh," he said sheepishly. Now it was her turn to laugh. "Jack, I love you." He put his other arm around her. "I love you too."

She sighed happily. Hugging him to her, she said, "I can't believe this is real."

"Neither can I sometimes." He gently stroked her back. "I never thought anything like this would happen to me."

"Aren't you the one who said you never know what life's going to throw at you?"

"Well, that's almost what I said. You cleaned up the grammar a bit, but yeah, it's the same thing."

"Are you making fun of the way I speak?"

"Not at all." He kissed the top of her head. "If anyone should be made fun of for how they talk it's me."

"I like how you talk. You wouldn't be you if you talked any other way."

He smiled. "I like how you talk too. Finishing school accent and all."

She raised her head. "I went to the best finishing school in Philadelphia I'll have you know."

"I have no doubt."

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment before they both burst out laughing. "Can you imagine if I cared about something like that?" she asked. "No," he said. "And I don't want to." His laughter faded. "If you did, you wouldn't be my Rose."

She cupped his cheek. "I'll always be your Rose," she said, kissing him. "I could only be your Rose." He brushed a few stray curls away from her face. "I hope I can deserve you one day."

"You already do." She kissed him again. "I just hope nothing changes."

"It won't," he promised. "Not if we don't want it to."

But sometimes, despite our best efforts, the will of fate prevails, and things change whether we like it or not. Jack and Rose were about to discover that.

….

Jack was the last out of the dining room after breakfast. He was a few steps behind Rose and Fabrizo, who were walking with their heads pressed together, talking quietly. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw them glance back at him and laugh on their way out the door. _What's he_ _telling her?_ he wondered _. He better not be telling her about_ —"Jack?" Charlotte's voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned around. "Right here," he said cheerfully. She was still seated at the head of the table; she motioned for him to sit down in the chair to her right. "Something wrong?" he asked, noting the seriousness of her expression.

"Oh no," she said She tapped her temple. "I just have another one of those damned headaches."

His forehead wrinkled in concern. "Didn't the doctor give you something to help?"

"He did, but I'm afraid it's proven rather ineffective." She gave a quick shrug.? "I need to speak with you if you have a moment," she said. He nodded. "Sure. Fabri's telling Rose my darkest secrets, but I can put off killing him for a while." She laughed. "I have trouble imagining you with any dark secrets. I can picture a trail of brokenhearted girls behind you, but not much else."

"Oh no, no, no," he said quickly. "The closest thing I came to an affair before Rose was with a pair of hands." She gave him a puzzled look. "It was a woman I drew," he explained. "She had really beautiful hands. I know it sounds strange, but I just loved looking at them."

"That's not so strange. You are an artist after all, and actually that's what I wanted to speak to you about."

It was his turn to be puzzled. "Art?"

"Yes. You see, I need an expert's opinion."

"I'd hardly call myself an expert."

"Well, then it's a good thing I'm not asking you to isn't it?" She smiled slightly. "I need some help selecting new pieces for my gallery. The last man I hired to run it selected the most horrible things. I wonder if I might ask you to fill in until I can find someone else?"

…

 _I can't do this_. Jack stood in the doorway of Charlotte's art gallery—her small art gallery. _If this is the small one I'd hate to get lost in the big one._ His palms began to sweat; his feet felt glued to the floor. He didn't understand why, but suddenly he felt tiny, like an insect, like the nothing most of the world thought he was _. I can't do this._

"May I help you?" The question came from a smartly dressed man with perfectly styled light brown hair. He was shorter than Jack by a few inches, but he carried himself with a presence that made him seem much taller than he really was. He eyed Jack's longish hair and simple, well-worn clothes. "Sir?" he said, a slight edge in his tone. He was startled when Jack looked him in the eye. "Yeah—Yes," Jack said. "You can help me. I was sent here by—"

The man gave a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh thank God! I thought they'd never send you." Jack watched, confused, as he turned on his heel and began to walk briskly toward a door marked "Private". "Well, come along!" he barked over his shoulder. "Honestly, they'll take anyone these days," he grumbled to himself. Jack glared at his back as he followed him through the door. _I can hear you._

"So, just these," the man said, gesturing toward a stack of empty painting frames. "Oh yes, and these as well," he added, pointing to another stack across the room. He shot Jack a quick glance, taking in his slim build. "That won't be too much for you, I'm assuming?" he asked, his voice making clear that he did indeed think it would be too much for him."You mean too much for me to pick up?" Jack said, hooking his thumbs through his suspenders. "Nope. I could do it. Just not sure why you're telling me to."

The man stared at him, confusion shining in his gray eyes. "Weren't you sent by the framers?"

"No. I was sent by Mrs. Snowe actually."

The confusion morphed into disbelief. "You're the one—" His face reddened. "I mean, of course you are. Right. Who else would you be?" He didn't give Jack time to answer. "I'm Anthony," he said, holding out his hand. "Anthony Hays. I'm the assistant manager and curator." Jack smiled and shook his hand. "Jack Dawson. And I really can move those for you if you want," he added, cocking his head toward the frames. "Oh no!" Anthony said quickly. "No, not at all. I'll send word round to them again about getting someone over here to take care of it."

Jack shrugged. "Okay."

As he followed Anthony down a short corridor and through another door Jack couldn't help but wish he had let him believe he was from the framers.

…

"That's what I would do."

Anthony looked up from the painting lying on the desk in front of him. "You would? Why?"

"Well, because it's better," Jack said simply. "It's just a better piece of art." His anxiety had vanished the instant Anthony pulled out the first painting the gallery was thinking about showing, leaving a quiet confidence in its place. Why had he thought he couldn't do this? It was still art even if he was looking at it in a lavish, five story building and not on a street in Paris.

"It's only a landscape—if you can even call it that. I can barely make out the flowers."

"I can see them just fine." Jack leaned over the painting. Careful not to touch the canvas, he traced his finger over the outline of an orchid. "See?"

"I actually do sort of see it," Anthony said. "But I think it says a great deal about the so-called artist's skill if another person has to point it out to me." Jack couldn't help but laugh. He had been looking over paintings with Anthony for almost an hour, and in that time he had discovered Anthony had a knack for cutting right to the heart of why he didn't like a piece—and so far he had disliked most of them—and explaining why in such a way that no-one would ever be doubtful about the vehemence of his feelings. But, of course, those feelings were always wrapped in a perfectly polite package. He was nothing like Rose, but something about his criticisms reminded Jack of her.. "That's one way of looking at it," he said. "But how about you try not to focus so much on the details and just take in the whole picture."

"The details are the picture," Anthony insisted. "Without them there is no picture."

"Humor me please. Would ya?"

Anthony frowned. Who was this scruffy child to tell him how to look at a piece of art? _I've been in this business for twenty years. He doesn't look like he's even been on this Earth twenty years._ And yet a tiny part of him wondered if in fact Jack did know what he was talking about. After all, hadn't he been sent by Mrs. Snowe herself? He glanced at Jack out of the corner of his eye. He was happily studying the painting, his fingers tracing every detail. He was murmuring to himself; Anthony couldn't make out what he was saying. _Where did she find him?_ he wondered. _And why did she feel the need to send him here? Couldn't she have found someone more presentable?_

….

Jack's hand hadn't even landed on the knob of the front door when it swung open. He stepped back in surprise as a beaming Rose came into view. "Jack!" she cried, throwing her arms around him. Her curls covered his face; he breathed deeply, taking in as much of her scent as he could. Suddenly it seemed as though he'd been gone for far longer than a few hours. "How was it?" she asked when she finally released him. "It was good," he said. "C'mon, let's go inside and I'll tell you about it. So what did you do all day?" he asked as she closed the door behind them.

"Nothing exciting, I'm afraid. At first I didn't know what to do with myself at all—I mean, at home I have the apartment to take care of, but here there's nothing like that for me to do. Charlotte had business to tend to. Finally I ran into Fabrizo on one of the staircases—I think he was lost again, though he wouldn't admit it—and we went out and explored the city for a while."

"Don't you already pretty much know it?"

"You'd think I would, what with growing up here, but there's actually a lot I didn't know, a lot I hadn't seen."

He put an arm around her waist. "So I'm guessing you had fun?" He wished he could have been the one to see it with her, but since he couldn't he was glad Fabrizo had been there. "I did," she said. "There's still more left. There's more I want to see with you."

"And you will." He kissed her. "In a few days we'll go exploring together." Her face fell. "I have to finish this," he explained. "It's gonna take at least another two days to get all the paintings picked and bought and whatever else has to be done."

"Oh," she said quietly. He cupped her chin and lifted her face up. "It might not even last that long. I bet I can get it done tomorrow, and then I'll be all yours again."

But he didn't get it finished the next day. Or the next. On the third day he finally managed to wrap the whole project up, but the second he was about to leave Anthony stopped him with the news that he was supposed to start on something else. Jack sighed. _I'm sorry Rose._

…

She was already asleep when he came in. Jack paused in the doorway, his hand still on the knob, and just watched her. She was lying in the middle of the bed, her hair spread out like a fan across the pillows. Her shoes had been placed neatly on the floor at the end of the bed, but otherwise she was fully dressed. _She was waiting for me,_ he thought with a pang of guilt. _She didn't want to_ _go to bed without me here_. He carefully pushed the door closed. No sense in waking her, he reasoned.

Rose murmured something he couldn't understand and rolled over to face him as he slipped into bed next to her. He put an arm around her waist. Placing a soft kiss on her cheek he whispered, "I love you. I won't do this again." Her mouth curled into a small smile. She murmured something else he couldn't understand. She moved closer to him and threw an arm across his middle. He rested his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes. Her face was buried in his neck. He could feel her smile pressing against his skin. _I won't_ , he told himself. _Rose, I promise I won't._

….

"When did you get here?" Rose asked, rubbing her eyes. A smile spread across her face. "You weren't here when I fell asleep." Jack slowly ran his fingertips up and down her arm. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I'm sorry about that."

"No, don't be," she said. "It doesn't matter. You're here now." He pulled her closer so their stomachs were pressing together. "And I'm not goin anywhere." She gave him a puzzled look. "Don't you have to—"

"I'm not going today."

"Do they not need—"

"Oh, I'm sure they think they do, but they can handle things without me today." He kissed her. "We're pretty much done with this project." His hand slid down to her waist. "And they're gonna have to get used to me not being there anyway," he said, kissing her again. She played with his hair, letting it slide through her fingers, as his lips moved down her neck. "So you're not going back?" she asked, trying not to notice where his mouth was. He murmured something inintelligible. She briefly considered asking him to repeat himself before deciding she didn't care. He could always tell her again later.

….

"Why don't you want to go back?" Charlotte folded her hands and laid them on her desk. It was large and made of oak. Jack guessed it was an antique; it reminded him of some of the pieces he had seen in museums in France. Expensive, had been his first thought upon seeing it. Probably worth a fortune. Now all he could think about was how it seemed to turn the few feet that stood between them into an unbridgeable chasm. "It's not that I haven't liked working there," he said. "I do. It's the best thing I've ever done. But I don't like all the time it's taking."

She leaned forward. Her gaze was probing. "What do you mean?"

He shifted in his chair. Suddenly it all seemed so silly. Didn't other men go out and earn a living and spend time away from their wives? Hadn't his other job required him to spend the entire day away from Rose? So why was he so quick to complain about this one? Wasn't it almost exactly what he had always wanted to do?

 _So what?_ he thought. "I don't like all the time I have to spend away from Rose," he explained. "She's barely out of bed when I leave, and it's getting so she's already asleep when I come back. And I hate it. I fought too hard to be with her to just—" He sighed. "I understand what I'm saying. I know you were trying to give me an opportunity, and I'm just throwing it away. I'm sorry, but…." He didn't know what else to say. Being with Rose was the most important thing.

"You don't care about money, do you?" she said pensively.

"What?" he asked, confused. He had expected a reaction, but what he had pictured had involved more anger. "Well, no, not really. But what does that—"

"I respect that," she said, cutting him off. "I really do. Neither of you care about money, which is one of the reasons I'm leaving all of mine to you." He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off again. "I know," she said, "it seems odd, but it makes sense if you think about it. Who else will appreciate all of this?" She made a sweeping gesture with her hands. "Who else will appreciate it better than the two of you?"

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm not sure I see where this is going. Are you saying you're glad I don't want the job?"

"Jack, tell me something. Would you like to give Rose a good life?"

"Of course I would."

"But you won't want to live off my money will you?" He avoided her eyes. "Be honest," she added. "We both know you won't want to. And neither will she. So wouldn't it make sense for you to earn the money somehow?"

"That's why you asked me to do that, isn't it?" he said. "You didn't really need someone at all, did you?"

"I did need someone, and I did—I do—think you were right for the job. I own a lot of businesses. There are a lot of other jobs I could have offered you, but I offered you that one because I felt it would be right for you." She looked into his eyes. "And I was right. You've done amazing things these past few weeks."

Jack ducked his head. "I've just been picking the pieces I like," he said. "It's not hard."

"What you like happens to be good—extraordinary, in fact. Much like your own work," she added. "Wouldn't you like to use your love of art to give Rose the life you want her to have?"

He considered her words. "As great as that would be," he said finally, "none of it means anything if she has to go to sleep alone every night."

Charlotte smiled. "That's what I wanted to hear." She pushed back her chair and stood up. "Leave as early as you like," she said. "It's up to you when you come and when you go." Jack stared at her, his eyes narrowed in confusion. "What—"

"It's yours," she said simply. "So do with it what you wish."

Jack didn't move until long after she was gone. Her words kept echoing in his head. "It's mine," he said softly. "The entire gallery is mine."

…..

"I'll be back at five," Jack said. Rose nodded. "I know. You already told me. A dozen times." Her eyes sparkled. "I think you have little faith in my ability to remember what you say." He took a step back. "I can't believe you would say such a thing," he said, putting a hand over his heart. "Well, it's good I know how you really feel now."

She laughed and reached for his hands. "I feel overjoyed."

"You do?"

She laced her fingers through his. "You deserve this, Jack. And I want you to have it. Even if it takes you away from me sometimes." He pulled her closer and pressed his forehead to hers. "It won't take me away from you. Not anymore. I promise." He kissed her deeply. "I'll be back at five."

But he wasn't. And by the time he finally did come back she had already fallen asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Jack slowly crept into the bedroom, shoes in hand. It was past midnight, and he was sure Rose was asleep. He closed the door, wincing when it gave a loud creak.

"Jack?" Rose shot up; her body was tense, as though she were about to spring forward. He cursed the door and set his shoes down. She rubbed her eyes. "Jack?" she said again, yawning this time. "Yeah, it's me," he whispered. "Go back to sleep." She reached over and turned on the lamp next to the bed. "What time is it?"

"It's late," he said. "It's really late." He began unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm sorry." She crawled to the end of the bed. "What happened?" she asked. He shrugged out of his shirt and laid it over the back of a chair. "I'm not sure how to explain it," he said. He sat down next to her. "One minute it was four thirty and the next it was a quarter to midnight." He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. "Everyone was gone. I didn't even notice when they all left. I've never been so caught up in something before, except maybe when I'm drawing." He studied his hands _. I love it,_ he wanted to say _. I don't know why. I don't know how to explain it. It makes me feel good._ He sighed.

"You love it, don't you?" she said softly. She cupped his chin and lifted his head so his eyes met hers. "I can see it in the way you talk about it." He laid his hand over hers. "I do love it," he said. "But not more than I love you."

She lowered her eyes. "I didn't say you had to choose, Jack."

"No, but if you did, I'd choose you." He moved her hand away from his face. Lacing his fingers through hers he said, "I'd always choose you."

"I want you to have this," she said slowly. "It makes you happy. And I know you won't admit it, but these few weeks have been good for you." He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off. "You're not the only one who can see things."

Jack kissed her fingertips. "It's not good for us though, me being away so much. I don't have to spend every waking hour there. It's my choice. I don't have to let myself get so caught up I lose sight of what's really important."

"Both are important," she said. "You need something other than me to care about. You need…." At a loss for words she let the sentence hang unfinished. She sighed and pulled her hand out of his. "It doesn't matter," she said, moving back to the head of the bed. She buried herself in the bedcovers. "It's late. We can discuss this in the morning."

Jack nodded. "Alright. If that's what you want." He didn't know what to make of her sudden change in mood. It was as if a switch had been flipped. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he knew it would be a waste of time. She had said all she wanted to—or could—say on the subject. He turned off the lamp and finished undressing in the dark. Rose watched him go into the bathroom and brush his teeth; she could see his hands moving through the crack in the door. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face against the pillow when he came back into the bedroom.

"I love you," he said softly as he slid into bed next to her. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "I do." He kissed her cheek. "I don't need anything but you." He watched her face for a few minutes, hoping she would respond, but she never did.

….

"I think that one should go there," Jack said, pointing to a spot on the wall in front of him. Anthony nodded. "That's a good idea, sir."

"Didn't I tell you not to call me that?" Jack asked, clapping him on the back. Anthony shot him a startled look. "Um…" He wasn't used to other men—or women either, for that matter—touching him so casually. "Yes, I suppose you did," he said. "I'm sorry. I—I'm just not sure what else to call you."

"How about my name?" Jack grinned. "That's what most people call me."

"That would make sense, wouldn't it?" Except that it didn't _. Unthinkable. It's absolutely_ _unthinkable. It's not done_ , Anthony thought. He glanced over at Jack, who was happily engrossed in the gallery's latest acquisition, a painting by an artist no-one had ever heard of and whom Jack couldn't get enough of despite Anthony's repeated assurances that no-one would ever want to hear of him _. He means it. He thinks I can just go around calling him by his first name as_ _though we aren't boss and employee_. Anthony shook his head. It wasn't just him Jack was trying to do this with; just a few days before he had caught him making friends with the maintenance men. They had been sitting on some overturned crates out back. Anthony hadn't believed his eyes when he discovered them. A pile of money had been in the middle of the group, and they were all holding cards.

"Sir?" he'd said, stepping outside. Jack looked up from his cards. A cigarette dangled from his lips; his top shirt buttons were undone, and his vest hung open _. His posture is appalling_ , Anthony had thought, resisting the urge to cringe. _Doesn't he know any better than to conduct_ _himself this way?_ Yet again he wondered where his new boss had come from. How was it that someone so obviously uneducated, unsophisticated, so uncouth had ended up as the head of the biggest gallery in Philadelphia? And was managing to succeed at it? It had only been a few weeks, but the pieces Jack had chosen to show were attracting more people than Anthony had seen in years. The gallery had been a success before his arrival, there was no doubt about that, but now it was almost a phenomenon. People he had never expected to know or care about art were walking in off the streets, and what's more they were talking to Jack as though they'd known him for years.

"Hey," Jack said cheerfully. The other men cast wary glances at Anthony, who resisted the urge to pull his handkerchief out and hold it over his nose. They looked over at Jack to see what he would do next. "Do you need something?" he asked. "I thought we were okay for a while."

"We are. I just wanted to see how things were going out here." Anthony tried to mask his discomfort and failed. "Fine," Jack said. He was starting to grow uncomfortable himself. "We're fine." Anthony nodded. "I'll see you inside then." Jack's discomfort only grew worse after he left. For the rest of the game all he could think about was the look in his eyes. He had looked almost afraid. _Afraid of what?_ Jack wondered. And then it hit him. _Because they're—we're poor. And because we look it. And because he can't stand that about us._

Both Jack and Anthony were ripped from their thoughts by the sound of the bell above the front door. "Who could that be?" Jack wondered aloud. "Aren't we closed for lunch?" Anthony was already halfway across the room. "I'll take care of, it si—Jack." But when he returned a few moments later he was wearing a frown and accompanied by two people.

"Sir?"

"What did I tell you?" Jack said without looking up from the painting that had once again grabbed his attention. "Jack," Anthony said. "You said to call you Jack."

"So what is it?" His eyes widened as he looked up. "Rose!" he cried, a bright smile spreading across his face. She laughed. "You sound as though it's been years since we last saw each other." He hurried over to her. "It feels like it has been," he said, taking her in his arms. She laughed again and brushed the hair from his face. "Hours, yes. Years, no."

He brushed his lips across hers. "Hours, years, it's all the same," he said. He pulled her closer, oblivious to the other two people in the room. "Jack—" she began, but he kissed her before she could say anything else.

Fabrizo loudly cleared his throat. "Jack?"

"Huh?" Jack looked around, confused. Rose stepped out of his embrace. "Fabri!" he cried. Fabrizo held up his hands. "That's all the greeting I need." Jack rolled his eyes. "Who said you'd rank that high, huh?" he asked, punching Fabrizo playfully on the arm. Rose smiled to herself as she watched them. They hadn't spent any time together since Jack had started working at the gallery. Fabrizo spent most days either with her or showing Charlotte's cook how to prepare Italian dishes. He had a passion for cooking that was unlike anything Rose had ever seen, especially in a man. One afternoon as they had strolled through the city he had confessed he wanted to cook for a living.

"Not just like what I was doing before, when we were in D.C.," he said. "Or like when I was in Italy. I like cheese making, but there's more I want to do."

"You should do it," Rose said.

He shook his head. "I couldn't."

"Why not? You're good at it. You're more than good—you're…" She searched for the right words. "It's like the way Jack is with art," she said finally.

"I never thought of it that way."

"And why couldn't you make it as a chef then? He could make it as an artist."

"Oh Bella Rosa, you have such a belief in people."

"Why shouldn't I?" she asked, confused. "When those people are so talented?"

"Talent isn't everything," he said sadly.

But he never told her what was everything, and as she watched their conversation descend into yet another one of their squabbles, she decided he had been wrong. Talent really was everything. If it wasn't, how could Jack have succeeded so quickly? Her heart swelled with pride. He had always been confident, but since his success has begun he had moved with a new kind of ease. It was as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders.

"Anthony, I'm leavin," he said. "You can handle things for a few hours, right?"

Anthony nodded. "Of course, sir."

Jack shot him a mildly reproachful look. "What?"

Anthony sighed. "Jack."

"Alright then." Jack slipped an arm around Rose's waist. "How long has it been since we had lunch together?"

"I don't know," she said. "Too long?"

"That's what I was thinking too." He motioned to Fabrizo with his free hand. "C'mon." As they started up the street Rose couldn't help but smile. His clothes hadn't changed. His walk hadn't changed. His speech hadn't changed. And yet something was different. She just hoped that would be the end of the changes—whatever it was.

…

Jack's food sat untouched, growing colder by the second, but he couldn't bring himself to let go of Rose's hand so he could eat it. He could have sat there gazing at Rose for the rest of the day. Her curls blew in the cool breeze; her face looked as though it were being framed by a fire. Her eyes were bright and sparkling _. I love her_ , he thought. It was almost as if he were realizing it for the first time. _I really love her._

"Jack, eat something," she said, slipping her hand out of his. He picked up his fork and just stared at it. "You use that to get the food from your plate to your mouth," Fabrizo said. "Like this."

"Is that what you're supposed to do?" Jack said sarcastically.

Fabrizo nodded. "Yeah, that's basically it," he said, acting as though he hadn't heard the sarcasm in Jack's tone. "It's pretty easy once you get used to it."

Jack twirled his fork and speared a string bean. "I'm sure it is," he said. Rose smiled and shook her head. "You two."

Jack and Fabrizo continued trading good natured barbs for the rest of the meal. They both tried to bring Rose onto their respective sides at one point or another, but she refused to have any part of it. When lunch was over Jack suggested they take a walk. "Like all those walks I've been promising to take with you," he added, slipping his arm around Rose's waist. "Don't you have to go back to the gallery?" she asked.

"We'll go by and I'll tell Anthony I'm taking the rest of the day off."

"You can just do that?" Fabrizo said, a touch of admiration in his voice. "Yeah," Jack said, suddenly uncomfortable. Fabrizo was looking at him the same way Anthony did, as though he were someone worthy of deferring to, a "sir". It was bad enough when Anthony did it, but it was unbearable coming from his best friend _. I'm not any better than you_ , he wanted to say. _I haven't_ _accomplished anything_. But he didn't. He just gave a quick shrug and started walking.

Rose felt the energy between them shift the moment Jack announced he wasn't going back to work—the moment he announced he didn't have to go back to work. There was a world of difference between the two friends now, and all three of them knew it. Jack was just doing his best to pretend it didn't matter. He talked more than she had ever heard him talk before, as if he sensed one of them might say something, might bring it back up. Fabrizo pretended not to notice, but she could tell he did. There was a change in his eyes. He didn't look at Jack's face when he spoke to him.

 _Please don't fall apart,_ Rose thought _. Not over this._ She knew she was probably being melodramatic; after all, it wasn't as though they were fighting or had stopped speaking to each other. They were just speaking to each other differently. _And there's nothing wrong with that_ , she told herself. _But there might be something wrong with you_. Why would their friendship just end? Because, and she refused to let herself think about it, the changes she had wanted so badly to avoid seemed to be happening.

…

"Good day?" Jack asked, wrapping his arms around Rose from behind. She let her body sink against his. "Wonderful day," she said happily. He smiled and hugged her tightly. "We'll have more of those," he said. "I promise."

"You don't have to promise that." She twisted her neck so she was looking into his face. "I know you love me."

"I haven't been doing much to show it lately," he said. "I'm always gone." She turned around so they were face to face. Putting her hands on the back of his neck she said, "You've been working—at something you love, I might add, something that makes you happy. And you deserve this. The only thing I'd rather see is someone deciding where your art should go in a gallery."

"There's not much chance of that happening," he said ruefully.

"Don't talk like that. Jack, you are so gifted. The way you see, the drawings you can create. I've never seen anything like it. You amaze me."

"You're the only person besides my parents to ever think that," he said softly. "I'm sure that isn't true," she said, running her fingers through his hair. He smiled, loving the way it felt. "I'm just the first person since them to tell you. But that doesn't make it any less true." She looked deep into his eyes. "You are a gifted artist, Jack."

He pulled her close, pressing his hands against her back. She twisted his hair around her fingers as their lips met. "I love you," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. _I'm doing it all for_ _you,_ he added silently. _For the life I want us to have. And it won't last much longer. We'll leave_ _soon._ He hadn't told her yet, but he wanted to take what he was earning at the gallery and travel, just the three of them. They would have the adventures he'd promised her they would.

Suddenly there was a loud pounding on their door. They jumped apart slightly but still kept their arms around each other. "What was—" Rose began. "Jack! Rose!" Fabrizo yelled. "Come quick!"

Time seemed to speed up after that. Rose would later say she wasn't aware of anything after she heard the words "fell" and "died" while Jack was almost painfully aware of everything that happened. Fabrizo just watched, too shocked to do anything else. It didn't seem possible. "How could this happen?" ran through each of their minds more than once as the hours turned into days. The house was brimming with people the whole time—Lawyers, friends, distant cousins who hadn't visited in years, if ever. Most of them ignored Jack, Rose, and Fabrizo, though a few cast curious glances in their direction and one whispered something behind her hand to her husband. Under ordinary circumstances they would have been amused or slightly offended, but as it was none of them cared.

"Jack, what are we going to do?" Rose asked quietly. She stared at the ceiling. "After this is all over, what are we going to do?" He rolled onto his side. "What do you want to do?" She gave a brief shrug. "I…I don't care." She offered no resistance as he slid and arm underneath her and pulled her closer. She felt limp in his arms, like a rag doll. His throat tightened. "We could go back," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "You know, to where we were before." She nodded absently. "I liked it there." He cradled her face with one hand. Her eyes were dull; he wondered fleetingly if she even saw him. "Don't worry," she whispered, reaching up and touching his face. Her fingertips slowly slid across his cheek. "I'll be alright."

He kissed her gently. "I know you will be." She laid his head on her chest and wrapped her arms around him. "I just don't understand," she said. "How did this happen?" He sighed. "I wish I had an answer for you."

…

The morning of the funeral was bright and warm, but by three o'clock it was cold and drizzly. Rose shivered; her thin, late summer dress offered no protection against the biting wind. Jack laid his jacket across her shoulders. She smiled weakly and slid her arms through the sleeves. "Thank you," she said. He just nodded and pulled her close. Fabrizo stood next to them, staring at the ground, his hands stuffed in his pockets. They were at the back of the crowd; none of them had felt like fighting their way to the front. Jack and Rose noticed a conspicuous absence as they watched the mourners file toward their waiting cars.

However, she was the first person they saw when they walked into Charlotte's dining room to hear the reading of the will. She sat on the right hand of Charlotte's lawyer. She stared straight ahead, as if she didn't notice any of the people taking seats around her. Her hands were folded in her lap; her back was a straight as a board.

"Rose, why don't we go?" Jack said softly. "No," she said, tossing her head haughtily. She slipped her hand into his and began to walk. He had a bad feeling, but he let her lead him to a chair a few seats down and across from her mother. "Rose—" he began, but the look in her eyes silenced him. He sat down next to her; Fabrizo took the chair on the other side of her.

Ruth's glare burned through him. Jack resisted the urge to duck his head. He stared straight ahead and counted the lines in the wallpaper design. Rose covered his hand with hers. He smiled slightly and laced his fingers through hers. He caught Fabrizo's eye over her head. "You okay?" he mouthed. Fabrizo nodded and waved his hand dismissively.

Everyone in the room leaned forward slightly as Charlotte's lawyer cleared his throat and began to read. Rose didn't hear anything he said; the words all ran together in her ears. Jack heard it all, but he didn't care about it. It was just a list of people he didn't know and why they were or were not getting something. No-one was getting anything substantial; it was all just knickknacks really.

Ruth gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles were white. _She didn't really do it. She only_ _said that to hurt me_. Her stomach churned as he turned to the last page. She held her breath as he began to read. "And finally, the bulk of my estate, including my house and various other properties, my stocks and bonds, my motorcar, and my money, except for a small trust I have set aside for my daughter, is to go to J—" But no-one could hear what he said over Ruth's wail. She pointed a shaking finger at Jack and Rose, who moved closer together. "You—how did you—" she sputtered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Mrs. Dewitt-Bukator, I must ask you to control yourself!" the lawyer boomed. She turned her steely eyes on him. "How could you let her? She obviously wasn't thinking rationally if—"

"I mean it," he warned. "If you're upset by how something turned out save it for the courts."

Ruth dug her nails into her palms and glared at Jack. When it was all finally over Jack jumped out of his chair and raced toward the door, Rose in tow. Fabrizo followed on their heels. The rest of the crowd were divided between those who stared at them in shocked confusion and those who watched Ruth to see what she would do next.

They didn't have to wait long. Jack's hand was closing around the doorknob when she leapt out of her chair, knocking it over. "How could you do this to me?" she cried. "How could you be so selfish?"

Rose stiffened. Before Jack could stop her she whirled around. Her eyes flashed with anger. "How dare you!" she yelled. "How dare you call me—"

"Rose, don't." Jack struggled to keep his voice level. "It isn't worth it. Just c'mon." She looked from her mother to him. Her face crumpled as she fell against him. Tears spilled from her eyes and onto his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her. "It's alright," he said soothingly. "It's gonna be fine." He shot one last glare at Ruth before they left.

…

Rose stared out the window. Raindrops splattered against the glass; thunder rumbled overhead. The sky was a starless, inky black. She sighed and pressed her hands against window, shivering as the cold glass touched her skin. Jack watched from across the room. He sat on the bed, leaning back on his hands. His toes dug into the thick rug under his feet. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "I still can't believe it."

"Neither can I."

She sat fell onto the bed. "It's all so crazy." She traced the pattern of the blanket with her fingertip. "Do you think she did the right thing?"

"Giving it all to us? Yeah, I think so. It was what was right for her."

"Do you—do you want it?" she said hesitantly.

He laid down. "The money?" She scooted closer to him, not stopping until their shoulders were touching. "The money," she said. "Do you want it?"

"I—" _You what? You like that you don't ever have to worry about where she'll end up if_ _something happens to you? Or that you can spend every day drawing if you want? Or—Shut up!_ "I never wanted it," he said slowly. "But she wanted us to have it, and now we do. So I'm going to make the best of it."

"That's all we can do, isn't it?"

"'Fraid so." He slid an arm under her and pulled her onto him. She settled her head on his chest, smiling when her ear landed above his heart. "But it won't be so bad," he said. "Things have changed, but we haven't."

…..

Obviously the house would have to be sold. Jack and Rose didn't even have to discuss it. The last thing either of them wanted to do was live right in the middle of Philadelphia's most elite neighborhood, and though none of them had said it, they got the feeling the neighbors wouldn't be sorry to see them go. They didn't want to leave it empty, either, and it wasn't the sort of neighborhood where people rented. The day after the reading of the will they had an agent in to see the house. After pronouncing it "exquisite" he promised to put it on the market immediately. Rose was tempted to tell him to sell it to the first person who made an offer; they didn't care what price was named. But she held back. Charlotte had poured years into perfecting it. She couldn't just throw it away for nothing.

"We're leaving after the house sells," Jack said. Fabrizo nodded, continuing to look straight ahead. He lifted his beer and slowly took a sip. "I thought you would," he answered finally. Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. A cool breeze blew his hair back.

He shivered slightly, whether from the dropping temperature or nerves he didn't know. "You're coming with us, right?"

"Yeah, I'm coming with you."

Jack nodded. "Thought you would." He took a sip of his beer, ignoring the rustling curtains in the window of the house on their left. _We're leaving_ , he thought. _Have some patience, will ya?_

"You don't know where you're going, do you?" Fabrizo said a moment later.

Jack turned up his beer, finishing it in one gulp. "Do I ever?"

"What are we going to do about the money?"

Jack paused, his sandwich halfway between his mouth and the plate. "What do you mean?" He felt foolish even as he said it. How could he not know what she meant? It was all he'd thought about since the reading of the will. "Are we going to keep it?" Rose had asked. She avoided his eyes. Picking at an imaginary flaw in the tablecloth, she added, "I don't care if we do."

"We can't just give it away," he said.

"Why not? There are plenty of people who could use that kind of money."

"And we're some of them," he said. He hated to admit it, but it was true. "Maybe we don't need all of it, but we do need some of it. If only so we know we don't have to worry." Rose nodded, her visions of the carefree life of a tumbleweed slowly vanishing. "I suppose you're right." He reached over and touched her shoulder. "We won't live any differently," he said softly. "If that's what you're worried about." A grin spread across his face. "Just because we have money doesn't mean we have to act like it." She lifted her head. Returning his smile she said, "That's up to us, isn't it?"

Except she wasn't so sure. Money changed people. Having it changed them just as much as losing it did. What if they couldn't live the way they wanted to? What if the lure of what he had never known was too great? She twisted the tablecloth between her fingers. _I wish none of this had ever happened. I wish she never decided to give any of it to us._

Jack scooted his chair closer. "It's gonna be okay," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He kissed her cheek. "Don't worry, honey." _How can I not_? she thought. Suddenly everything was different, and whether he realized it yet or not, nothing would ever go back to the way it was before. "I love you," she said softly. She touched his face. "I love you so much." He kissed her palm. "I love you too."

A week went by without any offers on the house. The money, as well as everything else, continued to sit untouched. Not sure what else to do, Jack went back to work in the gallery. Rose and Fabrizo resumed their afternoon rambles, but it wasn't the same. There was heaviness in the air between them that hadn't existed before.

"What are you afraid of?" Fabrizo asked one afternoon. Rose gaped at him. "What do you mean? Why would you ask me that?"

"I wasn't trying to upset you. Just thought you might like to talk."

"I—Oh, it doesn't matter," she said with a dismissive shake of her head. "I'm fine." But she wasn't, and she knew it. _And apparently so does Fabri_. Which meant Jack did too. He just hadn't said anything. _He's waiting for me_ , she thought sadly. _He's waiting until I'm ready to tell him._

…..

"Jack," Anthony said, knocking lightly on the open door of Jack's office. He looked up from the stack of papers on the desk. "Hey. Whatcha need?"

"There's a woman here to see you."

Jack's eyes lit up. "There is?" He sprang out of his chair. "Where is she?"

"I told her to wait in the lobby."

"Send her back! Why would you tell her to wait?"

Anthony sighed. "As you wish."

Jack was buried in a budget report when he heard someone walk in. His head snapped up. "Rose?" His heart skipped a beat. "What are _you_ doing here?"


	15. Chapter 15

"I suppose money really isn't everything," Ruth sniffed, her eyes narrowing. "Breeding is." Jack stared at her, too stunned to do anything else. Why had she come? How had she known where to go? _Well, at least now I understood that look on Anthony's face,_ he thought wryly. "I have no desire to be here any longer than necessary," she said stiffly. "So since you seem to have lost the ability to speak, I will."

Jack wasn't sure why, but something didn't seem right. There was something different about her. It wasn't just that her polite mask had been tossed aside and her true feelings revealed. He'd known what she thought of him all along; the look in her eyes the first time she saw him had made sure of that. He studied her carefully. Her body was rigid, her feet planted firmly on the floor, as if she could be blown away at any moment. A small purse was pressed against her stomach, clutched between ring covered hands. A diamond brooch glittered at the base of her throat. Her dress was a deep black, but the quality of the material was obvious even from across the room.

And then he understood. She was wearing everything she had left. Ruth hadn't come in her usual finery; she had come in the society woman's version of armor. "I can speak," he said, suddenly emboldened by his discovery. "What do you want?"

Her nose wrinkled in disgust, his voice grating on her ears. "I want what's mine."

He didn't have to ask what that meant. "It isn't yours. It's ours," he said, standing up. She recoiled, her grip on her purse tightening. "I'm not coming any closer," he said, not bothering to disguise the anger in his voice.

"I know better than to trust a thing like you," she said coldly. "Look what you did to poor Rose."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I've never done anything to hurt her."

"What do you think marrying her did?" Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "What did you think when you found out she was penniless?" she asked maliciously. "How did it feel when you discovered your meal ticket wasn't worth anything? She—"

"Is my wife," he snapped. "And she deserves more respect than that."

Ruth's jaw dropped. "How dare you speak to me that way!"

"You came here. You asked to see me. You're the one who wants something from me."

"I don't want anything from you. I just came to tell you not to get comfortable in that house. You won't be in it long," she hissed, turning on her heel. "You're right," he said. "We won't be. We're selling it." She froze. "And we're leaving," he added. "The money's staying behind."

Her throat tightened. A wave of horror washed over her. "You can't be serious!" She spun around. "You don't mean that!"

"Why would I lie?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Her eyes smoldered as they traveled over him, taking in his tousled hair, his boyish handsomeness, the rolled up sleeves that revealed tanned forearms—his skin alone spoke volumes about him—to a pair of charcoal stained hands. "Don't you wash? Don't you at least give her that courtesy?"

"I give her—" He took a deep breath. It didn't matter what he said. The only language Ruth appeared to understand was dollar signs. "Go," he said quietly. He grabbed a piece of paper from the stack next to him. "Just go."

"It isn't any wonder she's out with other men," Ruth muttered over her shoulder. She paused mid-step, waiting for his response. But none came.

…..

Jack stared at the paper. The letters swirled together, forming an incomprehensible mass. A dull ache filled the space behind his eyes. Sighing, he tossed the paper aside. He pressed his hands against his face and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

He was still like that when Anthony came in a few minutes later. "Jack—" His eyes widened. "Sir, are you alright?" Jack's head snapped up. "I'm fine," he said, forcing his mouth to form a smile. "And what did I tell you about calling me that?"

"I'm sorry, Jack. You startled me."

"No, I'm sorry," Jack said wearily. "What is it?"

"It's nothing. Why don't you just go home?" Anthony suggested. "Spend some time with your wife?"

"I think I'll do that." Jack grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "Sure you'll be okay here?" he asked, slipping his arms through the sleeves. "I'll be fine," Anthony assured him. "Go on." _And get some rest,_ he wanted to add. Jack's eyes, normally a bright blue, had dulled to almost gray. "And don't worry if you don't want to come in tomorrow," he called as Jack started out the door. "Just take care of yourself."

…

A silent, empty house greeted Jack. His footsteps echoed in the front hall. Even the usual battalion of maids was gone. "Strange," he murmured. He trudged up the stairs. His feet grew heavier with each step. His head spun; the pain behind his eyes was almost unbearable. His hands were shaking by the time he reached the room he shared with Rose. He stumbled inside, shoving the door shut behind him.

…..

Rose slowly stroked Jack's hair. He lay on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow. He still wore his jacket and shoes. "Come Josephine." she sang softly. She bent down and placed a lightly kiss on his ear. "In my flying machine."

"Going up, she goes," he murmured. He rolled over slowly, a smile spreading across his face, his headache and the encounter with Ruth forgotten. "Well, if it isn't the most beautiful woman in the world come to sing to me."

"Really?" Rose said excitedly. She jumped to her feet. "Where?" Rolling his eyes, Jack grabbed her arm. "Right here," he said, pulling her down next to him. "I don't see her," she said. She snuggled up against him. "I do," he said. He wrapped his arms around her. "She's all I can see." Rose smiled. "And now she's smiling," he said.

Her expression grew solemn. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Okay."

"I lied when I said I wasn't worried. I'm sorry, Jack. I—I just didn't—It sounds so stupid, even when I just say it to myself it sounds stupid."

"What does? Honey, what's wrong?"

"I'm afraid of what this money will do to us. I know you say it doesn't matter, but it does. If we aren't careful—"

"It'll change us?"

"Yes," she said softly. "That's exactly what will happen."

"No, it won't." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Rose, that's not gonna happen. We won't let that happen, okay? Nothing's gonna get in the way of the life we want."

"Are you sure? What if you decide you like having it?" It felt strange actually saying the words out loud.

"Having all that money? I don't care about it. I never needed it. You know that."

"I know," she said, suddenly ashamed. "What are we going to do with it all?"

"I don't know," Jack admitted. "Nothing, I guess."

The next day they found out exactly what they could do with it: hand it over to Ruth or appear in court on November 5th

…...

"She can't have it." Rose stared into the eyes of Charlotte's lawyer, Brian Yates. He resisted the urge to flinch; her green eyes were like two daggers being hurled at him. "I mean it," she added. Her voice cut through the air. "She cannot have it." He nodded. "Yes, I understand how you feel, and—"

"No," she said, cutting him off. "You don't." A hint of sorrow crept into her voice. "You can't." Jack laid his hand over hers. He wanted to tell her it was okay, none of it mattered, but he couldn't. It would be a lie. So he settled for squeezing her hand and offering her a smile. She laced her fingers through his. Her skin was like ice.

"There has to be some way to stop her, Brian," Rose said. "She doesn't deserve this." Brian held up a hand. "There is. I'm doing everything I can. Alright?" Rose nodded. "Yes. Yes, I understand," she said.

They walked home in silence. Rose held Jack's hand in a vise grip. She stared straight ahead. Her face was tense, her mouth thin and pinched. Her steps were quick. Her heels smacked the sidewalk with a series of purposeful clicks. Jack watched her out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words were frozen in his throat. Guilty knots formed in his stomach.

Everything was going wrong. Everything they planned seemed to be disappearing right before their eyes. The carefree life he'd promised her was no more. Now, it was nothing but lawsuits and court dates, angry phone calls and letters from people who claimed to be "close" relatives of Charlotte's, and a fortune they couldn't even begin to figure out what to do with.

Rose dropped into a chair. She threw her head back and screamed. Covering her eyes with her hands she said, "How did this happen?" Jack dropped to his knees in front of her. "I don't know." He pressed his hands against her waist and pulled her forward. "I can't stand it," she said softly. He laid his head in her lap. "I know." She slowly stroked his hair. "Do you think it's wrong of me?" she asked. "Keeping the money from her?"

"I think there aren't any easy answers," he said slowly.

She sighed. "I knew you would say that."

Fabrizo heard them come in, but he didn't get up. He stayed in the corner of the study he had claimed for himself. Their mood hung in the air. It was almost palpable. He sighed and grabbed a book from the shelf next to him. It was a volume of Italian poetry. Charlotte had bought it during one of her stints in Italy. He slowly traced the title with his fingertip. She had told him about it, told him about the adventure that culminated in the buying of the book. A sudden wave of sadness washed over him. He leaned back in the chair, the book sliding through his fingers. He didn't bother to catch it.

…..

"Rose wants to fight her." Jack stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over his chest. Fabrizo nodded. "Thought she would."

Jack looked surprised. "She say anything?"

"No. Just, you know, after everything. Seems like she wouldn't want her mother to get it," Fabrizo answered.

"You're right about that. A few days ago she didn't care if we threw the money into the ocean, but now….I understand how she feels though. It was given to us for a reason."

"And you'll help her fight."

"I'll always help her fight," Jack promised.

…..

The morning of their hearing was bright and sunny despite the temperature. Jack tucked Rose's hand into his coat pocket. She smiled. "I think your pocket's warmer than mine," she said. He pressed his free hand against her back. "C'mere if you're cold." Giggling, she allowed herself to be wrapped in his coat. "That better?" he said, brushing his lips across hers.

"Much better."

"Rose, when this is over—" he began.

"I know." She looked deep into his eyes. "We will."

The courtroom was packed. Everyone, from gossip columnists to society matrons was there. Jack, Rose, and Fabrizo had to fight their way through the crowd. Brian stood at the defendant's table, surveying the chaos with interest. "Quite a turnout, eh?" he said.

"I never expected all of this," Rose replied.

"You'd think people would be tired of us by now," Jack said dryly. He placed a protective arm around Rose's waist. Instinctively, she leaned toward him.

Fabrizo nudged Jack with his elbow. "Look," he murmured. Jack scanned the crowd until his eyes landed on an all too familiar head of black hair. A smirking Cal met his eyes. Jack's arm tightened around Rose. "Jack, what's wrong?" A quiet gasp escaped her throat. "Oh. Of course. Why wouldn't he come?" Her voice held a hint of bitterness. "He doesn't matter," Jack said, glad he could finally say it and mean it. "There's nothing else he can do to us."

"All rise," called the bailiff, "for the Honorable Judge William Brown." A tall man sat down at the bench. He had thinning blonde hair and dark brown eyes. His jaw was square, his nose crooked. "You may be seated," he said, picking up a folder. "Would council for the plaintiff please begin?"

"Yes, your honor." They watched as a short, skinny man stepped forward. He wore a cheap gray suit. His shoes squeaked when he walked. His hair was slicked back, but rather than making him look dapper it just made him look ridiculous. "Councilor, it says here your client, Mrs. Ruth Dewitt-Bukator is suing her daughter and son-in law, is that correct?" Ruth's face tightened at the word "son-in law". "That's correct, your honor. My client was robbed of her rightful inheritance. A crime which we fervently hope you will remedy today, your honor."

Judge Brown nodded. "Uh-huh. Well, why don't we get started then?"

Jack and Rose were pressed together, their hands clasped and resting on his knee. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered, kissing her temple. "Don't worry." She forced her mouth to curve into a smile. "I'm not worried." They both knew she was lying, but he didn't push the issue. _I'm worried_ _too,_ he thought. Not about losing the money. Things were just fine before, and he was sure things would be just fine again. It was how Rose would react if her mother won that worried him.

The room held its breath as Ruth's lawyer plunged into his opening argument. What he lacked in logic he made up for in gestures, and before he was finished with his fifth sentence he had managed to point at Jack and Rose no less than eight times. Rose's grip on Jack's hand tightened just a little each time. Fabrizo sat on the other side of her. His arms were folded stiffly across his chest; he stared straight ahead, ignoring the whispers of the women behind him.

"And so your Honor, you will see there is only one thing to do," Ruth's lawyer said with a dramatic flourish. "And that is to restore my client to her rightful place in the world." The judge nodded. "Yes, Mr. Stein. Mr. Yates, do you have anything to say?" Brian stood up. He threw an imperious glance around the room. "Your honor, I would just like to say that Mrs. Dewitt-Boater's claims are not only baseless but also born out of an illogical prejudice against her daughter and son-in-law." The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as Ruth's face curled in disgust. "Something which I shall quickly prove beyond a shadow of a doubt." He placed his hand on a manila envelope. "Here I have the last will and testament of Mrs. Charlotte Snowe in which she bequeaths her entire estate, save for a small sum to be dispensed to her daughter Ruth annually, to Jack and Rose Dawson." Jack and Rose were relieved when he didn't feel the need to point at them.

Terence Stein leaped to his feet. "Your honor, I would just like to say Mrs. Snowe's ability to reason at the time this document was signed is in question."

"You already said that," Judge Brown said. "Now, why don't you explain why we should believe this?"

"Certainly sir. At the time she changed her will Mrs. Snowe was under the sway of a scheming granddaughter and her husband. Within a week of meeting them she suddenly changed her will completely. Such a change could only be the result of time spent with a professional confidence man and his-"

"Objection!" Brian boomed. "This is speculation. Your honor, Mr. Stein has done nothing but belittle my clients and has yet to show one shred of proof backing up his allegations."

"Sustained. Mr. Stein please bring yourself to a point, preferably one you can back up."

Rose's nails dug into Jack's wrist, but he didn't feel anything. His heart pounded in his chest. It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming. Fabrizo laid a hand on Rose's shoulder. He glanced at Jack over her head. He was staring at Rose.

The rest of the morning went by in a blur. The two lawyers argued back and forth, though only Brian's words seemed to have any effect on the judge, who appeared at turns amused and exasperated by Terence's attempts to prove Jack and Rose had bullied Charlotte into leaving them her fortune. When the judge announced a recess for lunch Ruth's face had been replaced with stone, Terence was pale and couldn't stop flipping through his notes and Brian was quietly triumphant. Jack, Rose, and Fabrizo could only be described as shell shocked.

As they made their way outside Jack discovered his hand was bleeding. "I'm sorry," Rose said, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a small handkerchief. Gently, she dabbed at the scratches on his hand. "I didn't even realize-I shouldn't have-" Tears filled her eyes. "It's okay," Jack said. He wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his neck. "Sshh. Rose, honey, don't cry." He hugged her tightly. "It's all gonna be over soon."

The front of his shirt was soaked when she finally looked up. Her eyes were red. "I'm sorry, Jack. I-" she stammered. He took her face in his hands. "Don't. Don't say that," he said. He pressed his forehead to hers. "You're amazing. Remember that."

"Can't even keep your hands off her in public, can you?" Cal sneered as he passed. Jack whirled around, fist in the air. "Jack, no!" Rose grabbed his arm. "Listen to her, Dawson. No-one to take your side this time," Cal taunted. "And besides," he added over his shoulder, "you wouldn't want me to get up there and tell the truth, would you?"

"What's he talking about?" Fabrizo asked. "I don't know," Jack answered. He pulled Rose closer. "I'm not sure I want to know."

They learned the meaning of Cal's words as soon as court reconvened after lunch. Brian's announcement of his first witness was interrupted by Rose's choked cry of, "What?" A low murmur rippled through the onlookers. Ruth watched in horror as Cal sauntered up to the witness stand. Jack and Fabrizo exchanged bewildered glances. "Did you know he was going to do this?" Fabrizo mouthed. Jack shook his head. _If I'd known I would've told him not to_. He glanced over at Brian. _What was he thinking?_

Rose's jaw dropped in disbelief as she listened to Cal explain her mother's anger about her marriage to Jack. There was no mention of his role in the matter. _How can he lie like that?_ she thought angrily. _And how could Brian ask him to?_

A smirking Cal swept past them. Without thinking, Jack and Fabrizo both moved closer to Rose. "As though I couldn't get through you if I really wanted to," he muttered, just loud enough for Jack to hear. Jack clenched his jaw. _Don't do it. Don't do it._ Rose slipped her arm through his. Squeezing his hand, she whispered, "It'll all be over soon."

Court adjourned before either side was finished, but that didn't stop Brian from congratulating them on winning their case. Rose almost pointed out that it wasn't their case but was in fact her mother's case, but she just didn't have the energy. When she tried to speak all that came out was a weary, "Thank you."

"Why'd you do it?" Jack asked. "Why'd you bring him into this?"

"Ah, yes, that. Well, you told me to do everything I could to make sure she lost."

"But that still doesn't explain him. And everything he said was a lie."

"I suspect that's all he knows how to do," Rose added. Brian sighed. "Look. I understand how the three of you feel about each other, but the fact of the matter is he would rather see you two get the money than see Rose's mother get it. Something about hoping you lose it all and die miserable in the gutter. I didn't really listen to most of what he said, to be honest. He talks a lot. Why don't you just go home and get some rest? Tomorrow this will all be over."

But the next morning when Brian arrived at the courthouse they weren't there. On the defendant's table lay an unsealed envelope. "What the hell?" He carefully removed a small piece of paper. He was reading the note for the seventh time when the judge called court to order. "Mr. Yates. Mr. Yates. Mr. Yates!"

Brian's head snapped up. "Yes, your honor?"

"Are your clients present?"

"No, your honor. They couldn't be here today."

"And where are they?"

"Halfway to anywhere by now," Brian said, holding up the note. "Whatever that means." As he said it, he couldn't help but smile.

The End


End file.
